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THE 


Story -TELLER'S  Art 


A  GUIDE  TO  THE 
ELEMENTARY  STUDY  OF  FICTION 


INTENDED    FOR    HIGH    SCHOOLS    AXD    ACADEMIES 


BY 


CHARITY   DYE 

TEACIIEB   OF    ENGLISH,    INDIANAPOLIS   HIOII    SCHOOL 


1  }  (^  lO 


"  But  art.  —  wlii-rfin  man  nnwif>e  npcaks  to  men, 
Only  to  inankinil,  —  art  nmy  ti'll  u  truth 
OliliiiUL-ly,  do  the  tliinc  Hhall  bn'i'd  the  thought. 
Nor  wrong  the  thought,  iniBhing  the  mediate  word, 

80  write  a  hcxjk  nhall  mean  beyond  the  fuctK, 
Suffice  the  eye  and  nave  the  soul  bei-ide." 

—  ROHERT   BBOWNINO. 


BOSTON,  U.S.A. 

GINN   &   C'O.Ml'ANV,    I'l  lU-ISIIEHS 

Cbf  StbrncTum  |]rf6c 


o  tyi *  t  ^c  '>, 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1898,  by 
CHARITY  DYE 

Til  (Ik-  Otfiei'  of  the  Liliruriun  of  Congress,  at  Washington 


THIS    BOOK    IS 

REVERENTLY    DEDICATED 

TO 

MY   COMRADES 

IN    THE 

PROFESSION    OF   TEACHING 


FN 

PEE  FACE. 


These  pages  have  grown  out  of  class  room 
experience.  They  are  based  upon  the  assump- 
tion that  fiction  not  only  fills  a  needed  place  in 
the  curriculum  of  the  secondary  school,  but  that 
it  furnishes  a  means  for  language  discipline  and 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge;  that  it  develops  the 
power  to  appreciate  and  to  express,  and  gives  to 
the  student  a  fullness  of  life  that  cannot  be  sup- 
plied in  any  otlier  wa}".  It  also  introduces  him 
to  the  world  of  institutions  and  thus  enables  him 
to  take  part  in  the  affairs  of  life. 

That  the  study  of  fiction  is  not  beyond  the 
grasp  of  secondary  pupils  is  proved  by  the  exer- 
cises given  from  the  papers  of  the  students  them- 
selves. 

No  attemjjt  has  Ijeen  made  lierein  to  distin- 
guish closely  between  the  short  story  and  tin- 
novel ;  both  an*  liandlod  in  a  general  way.  <  >iit' 
iiKM-it  claimed    for   tlie   book    is    its  general    cliar- 


vi  VliEFAVE. 

acter.     Secondary  pupils  should  view  the  subject 
as  a  whole  first. 

I  am  indebted  to  Dr.  Oscar  L.  Triggs,  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Chicago,  for  criticism  and  assistance  in 
proof  reading,  and  to  Mrs.  Lois  G.  Hufford,  of  the 
Indianapolis  High  School,  for  helpful  suggestions. 

Charity  Dye. 


coe'te:n'ts. 


I.     To  THE  Teacher      ......  1 

IL     To  THE  Stidext  ......  15 

m.     Materials         .......  21 

IV.     The  Setting 20 

V.     The  Plot 28 

VI.     The  Stcdy  ok  Incident       ....  ;52 

VII.     Character  Study     ......  42 

VIII.      Method 48 

IX.     Plrpose     ........  51 

X.     Comment         .......  52 

XI.     Exercises    Ilhstratixg    the    Development 

ok  Power  in  tuk  Sti  nv  ok  Fiction       .  55 

XII.      A  Wi)iti>  AitoiT   Hkai.ism  .  .  .05 

XIII.     Some  Books  .Siitaiii.e   kor  Stidy  in  Second- 

AKV  S(  iiooLS          ......  7;5 

Xl\'.      .Some  Good  Uooks   and  Stories  that  Every 

Person  Should  Know  .  .         .77 

X\'.      Ukferences  upon  the  Study  ok  Fiction  .  7'.' 

1m»i.x         ........  87 


THE    STOEY-TELLEKS   ART. 

IJJ^J-Q 

I.   TO  THE  TEACHER. 

In  determining  the  place  and  time  for  the 
study  of  fiction  in  the  curriculum  of  the  second- 
ary school,  the  place  of  the  story  in  the  whole 
educational  system  commands  attention  ;  and 
what  applies  to  the  use  of  the  story  throughout 
applies  in  a  much  larger  way  to  the  serious 
study  of  fiction  in  the  secondaiy  school.  How 
can  the  story  be  made  a  more  potent  factor  in 
education  ?  How  shall  it  be  used  ?  What 
shall  be  the  basis  for  the  selection  of  stories 
for  use?  Must  utility  be  always  in  view? 
Shall  a  story  never  be  selected  in  and  for  itself 
independent  of  a  lesson  in  ethics,  geography, 
history,  science,  or  composition  ?  Must  a  read- 
ing of  ''  Tom,  the  Water  Baby,"  be  followed  by 
a  discourse  upon  cleanliness,  or  left  to  teach  its 
own  lesson  ?  Wlien  the  aesthetic  features  of  a 
story  bring  response  from  a  student  and  when 
the  content  enkindles  liis  soul,  is  not  the  use  of 


2  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

the  story  for  its  own  sake  justified,  even  though 
it  illustrate  no  single  point  in  the  curriculum? 
These  are  serious  questions  and  ought  to  be 
seriously  met  in  the  consideration  of  the  story 
as  an  educative  factor. 

The  nature  of  the  story  should  determine 
whether  it  be  used  independently  or  in  con- 
nection with  other  subjects.  While  one  story 
must  be  given  by  itself  as  a  work  of  art, 
another  may  best  be  used  in  correlation  with 
the  subject  which  it  illustrates.  Story  has 
always  formed  the  borderland  to  the  study  of 
the  world  of  nature  and  the  world  of  institu- 
tions. What  better  introduction  to  the  study 
of  history  than  story  ?  It  gives  the  thread  of 
fact  in  its  setting  as  in  life  ;  it  gives  it  in  its 
atmosphere,  in  its  perspective,  in  its  picturesc^ue- 
ness.  HoAv  much  more  is  added  to  a  child's 
knowledge  of  the  bravery  of  the  Puritan  heart 
if,  instead  of  hearing  in  plain  language  that  not 
one  went  back  on  the  "  Mayflower,"  he  is  told 
this  in  the  story  form,  and  is  thereby  made  to 
enter  into  the  feelings  of  the  lonely  Priscilla 
watching  from  the  shore  the  receding  sail  of  the 
"  Mayflower  "  as  it  goes  without  her  to  all  that 
she  loves  and  holds  dear. 

Cooper,  Helen  Hunt,  and  Longfellow  have 
made  the  Indian  a  reality.     The  story  of  Wash- 


TO   THE   TEACHER.  3 

ingtxjii's  trip  to  Governor  Dinwiddie,  his  winter 
at  Valley  Forge,  and  selections  from  Lowell's 
Washington  Elm  show  us  the  most  august 
figure  in  American  history.  The  simple  story  of 
Lincoln's  life,  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  and  stories 
from  Whittier's  war  poems  fix  the  meaning  of 
the  triumph  of  freedom.  Then  for  the  distinc- 
tive local  features  of  the  various  sections :  New 
England  can  be  found  for  the  young  in  "  Stories 
from  Grandfather's  Chair"  by  Hawthorne  and 
in  Mary  E.  Wilkins's  stories.  Thomas  Nelson 
Page  has  shown  the  Old  Dominion;  Mrs.  Mc- 
Enery  Stuart,  the  lower  South  ;  Bret  Harte, 
the  Pacific  sloj^e  ;  Hamlin  Garland  and  Octave 
Thanet,  the  central  West ;  Charles  Egbert 
Craddock,  Tennessee ;  James  Lane  Allen,  Ken- 
tucky ;  Cable,  the  Gulf  region  ;  Davis,  New 
York  ;  and  Riley,  Indiana. 

The  stories  of  Horatius  at  the  bridge,  Marcus 
Curtius  jumping  into  tlie  gulf  of  the  Forum, 
Regulus  who,  after  advising  the  Romans  never 
to  make  peace  witli  Carthage,  went  back  to 
chains  and  death,  Fabricius  who  c«uld  not  be 
frigliteiied  by  elephants  upon  one  day  nor 
bribed  by  gold  on  the  next,  and  Cincinnatus 
who  could  leave  tlie  plow  to  rule  the  state  and 
return  to  the  plow,  contain  the  genius  of  Roman 
history. 


4  THE  STORY-TELLER'S   ART. 

The  stories  that  cluster  around  Marathon 
introduce  one  to  the  true  spirit  of  Greek  civili- 
zation ;  they  show  the  struggle  between  the 
ancient  and  the  modern  world.  There  is  the 
story  of  the  mound  over  the  ninety-two  Athe- 
nians who  fell  in  the  battle  ;  the  picture  of  the 
power  of  Asia  that  had  never  been  conquered  ; 
the  culture  of  Athens  ;  the  terror  of  the  battle 
itself  and  of  the  part  taken  in  it  not  only  by 
the  soldiers  of  Greece  but  by  the  gods  and  early 
heroes  and  strange  personages.  Browning  tells 
of  Echetlos,  the  wielder  of  the  plowshare,  and 
P]ieidip})ides,  the  runner  who  ran  all  the  way 
to  Sparta  for  aid.  The  poet  Aeschylus  fought 
in  this  battle.  With  Aeschylus  can  come  in  his 
tragedies  of  Prometheus  and  Agamemnon,  which 
take  one  into  the  heart  of  Grecian  mythology. 
The  Oedipus  and  Antigone  of  Sophocles  now 
belong  in  order  and  it  is  in  place  to  tell  how 
Sparta  redeemed  herself  at  Thermopylae  and  to 
make  familiar  the  inscription  at  the  Pass  of 
Thermopylae  : 

Go,  tell  the  Spartans,  thou  that  passest  by, 
That  here  obedient  to  their  laws  we  lie. 

And  so  from  this  center  of  victory  the  ancient 
world  can  be  made  real  through  ancient  story. 
Jt  is  unnecessary  to  note  at  length  how  the 


T0    THE   TEACHER.  O 

Norse  mythology  contains  the  seriousness  of 
that  nation.  The  story  of  Odin's  giving  liis 
right  eye  for  wisdom,  of  Thor's  exploits,  and  of 
Balder  the  beautiful  enlist  the  student's  admi- 
ration for  a  people  who  could  look  upon  icebergs 
and  form  a  theology.  Nor  is  there  time  to 
praise  that  admirable  book,  "  Ten  Boys  on  the 
Road  from  Long  Ago  to  Now."  That  alone 
would  interpret  the  expressions  "historic  view  " 
and  "  historic  evolution." 

To  come  nearer  home,  in  '^The  Talisman  "  and 
in  '•  Ivanhoe  "  one  has  chivalry  made  real  to  him; 
he  sees  its  spirit  and  learns  its  practices.  He 
watches  the  knights  as  tliey  ride  into  the  lists  and 
engages  in  their  combats.  He  sees  the  chivalry 
of  the  bold  outlaw  Robin  Hood  and  also  feels 
the  spirit  of  chivalry  as  practiced  by  the  heathen 
Saladin,  who  far  excels  the  leader  of  the  Chris- 
tian host,  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart,  One  is 
moreover  taken  into  the  Crusades  and  touches 
Palestine  here  as  he  touched  Persia  in  connec- 
tion with  Greece.  He  also  sees  how  the  Jews 
were  pei-secuted  in  Knghuid  ;  and  the  sight  of 
King  John  l)rings  up  the  Magna  Charta  and  the 
valley  of  Runnymede.  Hero  he  also  sees  the 
conquered  Saxoji  and  the  Norman  conqueror 
and  learns  of  the  gradual  change  in  siieech  that 
went  on  after  the  conquest. 


<>  TIIK  UTORY-TELLEli'S  ART. 

Story  can  do  iniu'h  toward  making  plain  to 
the  child  the  use  of  the  earth  as  his  home  in 
the  midst  of  physical  forces  and  life.  "  Seaside 
and  Wayside  "  and  the  various  "  Nature  Read- 
ers "  have  shown  this.  "  Seven  Little  Sisters  " 
is  unparalleled  as  a  study  of  the  earth  as  a 
home. 

In  Robert  Browning's  poem  "  Development " 
he  tells  how  he  was  beguiled  by  degrees  into 
the  full-fledged  Greek  scholar.  First  he  played 
Troy,  then  heard  the  myths  told,  then  he  read 
the  translations,  then  studied  the  original,  and, 
lastly,  he  translated  Greek  literature  into 
English. 

Having  decided  ui)on  the  use  of  the  story, 
what  method  of  presentation  shall  be  used? 
The  analyzer,  on  one  side,  would  have  it 
studied  ;  would  have  every  figure  in  it  walk 
on  four  feet ;  every  motive  in  it  traced  out ; 
every  character  in  it  measured  by  a  tape-line  ; 
every  description  in  it  located  and  tested  as  to 
its  accuracy.  ^  The  over-sensitive  critic  in  aes- 
thetics, on  the  other  hand,  exclaims  in  horror: 
"Art  is  not  capable  of  analysis  ;  it  is  to  be  felt; 
it  is  to  teach  by  unconscious  influence.  We 
resent  definition,  explanation.  We  wish  to  be 
left  to  our  own  impressions.  The  child's  imagi- 
native mind  clings  to  its  images  and  does  not 


TO    THE    TEACHER.  7 

wish  them  rendered  into  prose  reality.  A  child 
resents  your  showing  that  its  doll  Cinderella  is 
sawdust  and  muslin." 

Now,  neither  extreme  seems  adequate  to  the 
right  presentation  of  litei-ary  art.  Since  great 
art  appeals  to  the  whole  ])eing,  it  is  clear  that 
the  part  of  a  story  that  appeals  to 'the  intellect 
is  capable  of  analysis,  and  that  in  all  stories 
there  are  parts  which  may  be  explained ;  it  is 
also  clear  that  what  appeals  directly  to  the 
emotions  must  be  left  to  the  unsounded  sea  of 
feeling.  It  seems  safest  and  most  in  keeping 
with  the  treatment  of  literature  as  art  to  omit 
the  analysis  if  one  cannot  decide  just  what  and 
how  much  to  explain. 

There  are  some  things  that  have  been  settled. 
One  is  that  it  is  far  better  for  students  to 
Ixjcome  thoroughly  acquainted  with  a  few  of  the 
l)est  stories  tlian  it  is  for  them  to  have  a  super- 
licial  knowledge  of  a  greater  number.  Another 
thing  is  that  a  sympathetic,  intelligent  reading 
of  ii  story  is  one  of  the  best  ways  of  interpreting 
it.  To  it'iid  a  story  well  requires  a  pleasant 
voice  (if  read  orally),  the  power  to  ajipreciate 
the  point,  nuderstand  the  characters,  feel  the 
humor  and  the  pathos,  and  t'njoy  the  descrip- 
tions. A  story  slionld  be  well  told  as  well  as 
well  rciul.      Indeed,  it  is  donbtful    wlietliei-  one 


8  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

really  enjoys  a  story  to  its  full  extent  until  he 
can  tell  it.  It  is  a  very  significant  fact  that 
little  children  love  the  same  story  repeated. 

Familiarity  with  a  few  of  the  best  stories 
being  secured,  one  can  begin  instruction  by 
incidental  comment  at  first  and  continue  to  call 
attention  to  what  is  the  most  essential  that  all 
should  know  until  a  critical  study  is  reached. 
This  ought  not  to  be  below  the  high  school, 
where  the  story  can  be  studied  as  art  in  connec- 
tion with  other  phases  of  English. 

A  modern  writer  says  :  "  There  are  times  in 
a  child's  life  when  it  suddenly  leaps  into  larger 
growth,  as  the  imprisoned  bud  blooms  larger 
than  its  promise.  .  .  .  Knowledge  comes  to 
the  child,  especially  all  the  subtler  knowledge 
of  time,  of  space,  of  love,  in  a  vague,  indefinite, 
unconscious  way,  developing  out  of  the  child's 
organic  self  as  a  flower  blooms.  This  knowl- 
edge comes  to  definite  knowledge  for  an  instant 
only  and  then  returns  to  the  sub-consciousness, 
waiting  the  next  day  of  warm  sun,  shining 
water,  and  smell  of  spring.  Each  time  it  stays 
longer,  till  at  last  the  child  can  contemplate 
his  own  thought  and  finally  express  it.  These 
times  form  our  real  life  epochs."  ^ 

'  Hamlin  Garland  in  "  Rose  of  Butcher's  Coolly." 


TO   THE   TEACHER.  9 

Familiarity  with  all  of  the  best  things  not 
only  assumes  the  value  of  impressions,  but  gives 
definiteness  to  impressions.  It  provides  for 
comparisons  ;  it  makes  associations.  Those 
who  know  Hawthorne's  "  Great  Stone  Face " 
remember  that  familiarity  with  it  was  what 
made  it  the  great  transforming  power  in  Ernest ; 
that  it  was  fii-st  to  him  only  a  face  on  the  moun- 
tain side  ;  then  as  the  years  passed  it  suggested 
to  him  the  benignity  that  must  be  in  a  spirit  to 
express  such  majestic  calm  as  he  saw  there  ; 
this  benignity  and  calm  through  contemplation 
entered  into  his  life  as  a  motive  ;  and  the  result 
is  known,  —  the  poet,  the  man  of  insight,  came 
and  pronounced  the  likeness. 

Familiarity  with  the  poet's  thought  in  the 
poet's  phrase  is  essential.  When  the  story 
comes  in  the  form  of  some  of  the  great  heroic 
ballads  the  language  of  poetry  is  read  as  a  foreign 
tongue  by  resolving  it  into  prose.  Poetry  should 
be  api)reciated  through  its  own  language  and 
not  through  that  language  made  into  prose.  In 
the  ballad  there  is  a  double  artistic  form,  —  the 
story  proper  and  the  poet's  thought  in  the 
poet's  phrase.  "  The  true  aim  of  culture,"  says 
Mr.  Coi-son,  "  is  to  induce  soul  states  or  condi- 
tions, soul  attitudes.  .  .  .  Literary  knowledge 
and  liteiiiry  culture  are  two  quite  distinct  things 


10  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

—  SO  distinct  that  a  student  may  possess  a  large 
fund  of  one  and  be  almost  destitute  of  the 
other." 

When  Tennyson's  "  May  Queen  "  or  "  Enoch 
Arden  "  is  done  over  into  prose  the  very  things 
that  made  Tennyson  the  master  of  his  time,  — 
his  music  and  his  exquisite  phrase,  —  are  de- 
stroyed. That  vivid  imagery  in  which  "  Enoch 
Arden "  abounds  and  the  rhythmic  swell  to 
which  the  spirit  keeps  time  are  lost. 

To  advocate  the  use  of  stories  in  and  for 
themselves  is  to  imply  that  such  stories  exist. 
Indeed,  one  suffers  from  the  poverty  of  riches  ; 
one  does  not  enjoy  what  he  has.  Many  are  still 
satisfied  with  the  old  and  agree  with  Julian 
Hawthorne  in  giving  Hans  Christian  Andersen 
a  high  place.  Some  persons  still  interpret  life 
by  "  The  Ugly  Duckling,"  '^  The  Bottle  Neck," 
"The  Five  Peas  in  One  Pod,"  "The  Flax," 
and  others  of  Andersen's  stories,  which  have  a 
subtle,  an  indefinable  charm  in  them.  For 
pure  imagination  the  "Arabian  Nights"  are 
still  good,  even  if  they  are  pronounced  inartistic. 
Dickens's  "  Child's  Dream  of  a  Star,"  Charles 
Lamb's  "  Dream  Children,"  "  The  Dog  of 
Flanders,"  Warner's  "  Hunting  of  the  Deer " 
are  good  stories.  Poe's  "Gold  Bug"  shows 
great  power  of  intellect.     Hawthorne's  stories, 


TO   THE  TEACHER.  11 

all  of  them,  exercise  a  weird  charm  over  the 
reader.  Homer  makes  the  rising  generation, 
as  he  made  Hugo,  twenty  feet  taller  to  read 
him.  Sarah  Orne  Jewett's  '•  White  Heron " 
is  a  sweet  story.  Curtis's  '*  Prue  and  I " 
is  unsurpassed  in  it«  idyllic  quality,  Kipling's 
"  Brushwood  Boy "  is  an  artistic  short  story. 
The  selection  of  stories  is  largely  an  individual 
matter.  A  fond  grandmother  said  the  other  day 
that  her  little  granddaughter  liked  "  Barnaby 
Rudge  "  better  than  any  other  book.  It  was 
guessed  why,  when  she  told  that  the  child 
had  heard  the  mother  read  it  to  the  father. 
The  mother's  sympatlietic  voice  and  tlie  child's 
desire  to  sliare  the  enjoyment  of  her  elders 
were  in  favor  of  her  liking  the  book.  One  must 
discover  the  best  for  himself.  One  can  do 
this  by  trying  stories  first  upon  himself  and 
testing  them  by  his  own  innate  sense  of  fit- 
ness. This  having  been  done,  he  can  try  them 
on  his  pu[)ils.  'Hie  l)est  story  sometimes  fails 
to  fit.  If  this  happens  to  ])e  the  case,  the 
teacher  can  tell  it  as  best  he  can,  giving  only 
essentials.  Sometimes  it  is  best  to  lay  a  story 
aside  till  it  is  called  for.  Common  sense  always 
comes  to  one's  aid. 

"'•  The  Place  of  liie  Story  in  Early  Kdiication," 
by  Sarah  E.  Wiltse,  is  interesting.     She  shows 


1:2  THE  STORY-TELLEli'S  ART. 

how  a  kindeigartner  uses  and  believes  in  the 
power  of  the  story  to  mohl  character.  She 
would  not  tell  a  story  without  in  some  way 
connecting  it  with  the  deed  or  tendency  she 
wished  to  correct.  As  a  companion  to  this 
book,  Julian  Hawthorne  in  his  chapter  "Liter- 
ature for  Children  "  brings  up  the  other  side, 
and  expresses  himself  concerning  the  moral 
wrong  done  to  children  by  Miss  Edgeworth's 
"  Frank  "  and  "  Parents'  Assistant."  He  feels 
this  especially  with  regard  to  himself.  He 
believes  that  one  ought  not  to  talk  down  to 
children,  for  they  are  most  formidable  literary 
critics.  Horace  E.  Scudder  has  given  good 
advice  upon  this  subject. 

Mr.  Robert  Collyer  has  told  of  the  value  of 
a  story  chosen  in  and  for  itself.  He  says  :  "  Do 
you  want  to  know  how  I  manage  to  talk  to  you 
in  this  simple  Saxon?  I  will  tell  you.  I  read 
Bunyan,  Crusoe,  and  Goldsmith  when  I  was  a 
boy,  morning,  noon,  and  night.  All  the  rest 
was  task  work.  These  were  my  delight,  with 
the  stories  in  the  Bible  and  in  Shakespeare, 
when  at  last  the  mighty  master  came  within 
our  doors.  ...  I  took  to  these  as  I  took  to 
milk,  and,  without  the  least  idea  what  I  was 
doing,  got  the  taste  for  simple  words  into  the 
very  fiber  of  my  nature.   ...  I  could  not  go 


ro    THE   TEACHER.  13 

home  for  Christmas,  1839,  and  was  feeling  sad 
about  it  all,  for  I  was  only  a  boy  ;  and,  sitting 
by  the  fire,  an  old  farmer  came  in  and  said  :  '  I 
notice  thou  'rt  fond  of  reading,  so  I  brought  thee 
summat  to  read.'  It  was  Irving's  '  Sketch 
Book.'  I  had  never  heard  of  it.  I  went  at  it 
and  was  as  '  them  that  dream.'  No  such  delight 
had  touched  me  since  the  old  days  of  Crusoe. 
I  saw  the  Hudson  and  the  Catskills,  took  poor 
Rip  at  once  into  my  heart,  as  everybod}-  does, 
pitied  Ichabod  while  I  lauglied  at  him,  thought 
the  old  Dutch  feast  a  most  admirable  thing, 
and  long  before  I  was  through  all  regret  at  my 
lost  Christmas  had  gone  down  the  wind,  and  I 
had  found  out  there  are  books  and  books.  That 
vast  hunger  never  left  me.  .  .  .  Now,  give  a 
boy  a  piission  like  this  for  anything,  books  or 
business,  painting  or  farming,  mechanism  or 
music,  and  you  give  him  thereby  a  lever  to  lift 
his  world  and  a  patent  of  nobility  if  the  thing 
he  does  is  noble." 

When  it  is  believed  that  a  classic  story  — 
cla.ssic  in  that  it  conforms  to  tlic  liighcst  art 
standards —  lias  a  place  in  education  in  and  for 
itself,  whctlier  it  ilhistrates  a  particular  thing 
or  nothing;  when  it  is  Ix-licvi-d  that  a  story 
answei-s  its  (Mid  if  it  in  some  way  appeals  (o  the 
imagination,  develops    the  aesthetic    cniotioiis. 


14  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

elevates  the  nature,  kindles  the  soul,  or  increases 
the  sympathy,  and  adds  to  fullness  of  life, — 
when  this  is  believed,  the  appreciative  powei' 
will  be  so  quickened  that  the  fitting  selection  will 
be  detected  by  an  almost  unconscious  process. 
Coarseness  in  language  or  in  tone  will  at  once 
offend.  The  subtle  undertow  in  a  story  will  be 
appreciated.  There  will  then  be  placed  before 
the  youth  only  that  which  makes  for  riglit- 
mindedness,  that  wliich  is  wholesome,  sweet, 
that  which  has  the  suiisliine  in  it.  The  storv 
as  an  educative  means  is  life  in  miniature,  and 
what  is  litter  to  sustain  life  than  life  itself? 

Emerson  well  sets  forth  the  aim  in  the  study 
of  fiction  ;  it  is  to  give  the  student  the  power 
to  read  the  "  poetry  of  affairs,  to  fuse  the  cir- 
cumstances of  to-day;  not  to  use  Scott's  antique 
superstitions  or  Shakespeare's,  but  to  convert 
those  of  the  nineteenth  century  and  of  the 
existing  nations  into  universal  symbols.  .  .  . 
'Tis  easy  to  repaint  the  mythology  of  the  Greeks, 
the  feudal  castle,  the  crusade,  the  martyrdoms 
of  mediaeval  Europe  ;  but  to  point  out  where 
the  same  creative  force  is  now  working  in  our 
own  houses  and  public  assemblies,  to  convert 
the  vivid  energies  acting  at  this  hour,  in  New 
York  and  Chicago  and  San  Francisco,  into  uni- 
versal symbols  requires  a  sublime  and  command- 


TO    THE  STUDENT.  lo 

ing  thought.  .  .  .  The  test  is  to  take  the  passing 
day  with  its  news,  its  cares,  its  fears,  and  to  hold 
it  up  to  divine  reason  till  it  is  seen  to  have  a 
purpose  and  l)eauty  and  to  be  related  to  the  eter- 
nal order  of  the  world."  Certainly  not  the  least 
among  the  means  employed  to  reach  this  noble 
end  is  the  story-teller's  art. 

II.     I'o   THE  STUDENT. 

You  have  come  to  the  .study  of  fiction,  but 
fiction  is  not  new  to  you.  You  have  long- 
known  of  fairies  and  felt  the  charm  of  that 
magic  phrase  '"  Once  upon  a  time."  You  know 
Moses  and  David  and  Joseph  in  the  Bible  ;  you 
have  joined  Hercules  in  his  laboi-s  ;  have  helped 
Siegfried  tight  the  dragon  ;  been  with  Ulysses 
in  his  wanderings  ;  lived  on  the  island  with 
Cru.soe  ;  stood  at  the  bridge  with  Horatius  and 
at  Thermop3'lae  with  Leonidas  :  and  have  gone 
t'ortli  on  cliivahic  errands  with  King  Arthur 
and  his  knights.  Indeed,  you  have  done 
enough  to  be  leady  to  leain  of  the  story-teller 
and  to  stu<ly  his  art  seriously. 

The  Story-teller.  While  the  story-teller  lia,s 
always  l)een  u[)om  tjje  road  (»f  time  and  his 
r)bject  has  always  Ixjen  tliu  same, — to  give 
pleasure  and    cheer  the   way,  —  yet  lie  started 


16  THE  UTORY-TELLER-ii  ART. 

out  with  a  very  simple  beginning.  At  first, 
perhaps,  he  only  sang  at  the  feasts  and  told  of 
the  wondrous  deeds  of  gods  and  heroes,  or  of 
the  love  between  fair  lady  and  gentle  knight. 
As  the  journey  lengthened  tlie  story-teller's 
province  was  enlarged  ;  he  warned  as  well  as 
amused,  and  gave  us  the  allegory.  Now  he 
would  analyze  sentiment,  indulging  in  the  wild- 
est fancy.  Again  he  would  confine  himself  to 
an  account  of  the  barest  facts  of  the  common- 
place. By  and  by  he  translated  tales  from 
other  nations.  Pride  in  his  art  grew  with  his 
experience  ;  he  learned  from  the  enlarged  life 
around  him  ;  he  used  better  language,  had 
wider  views,  more  confidence  in  himself,  and 
began  to  write  upon  his  OAvn  surroundings  and 
thoughts  and  feelings. 

There  came  a  time  when  he  almost  stopped 
story-telling  to  listen  to  the  players  of  the  great 
Elizabethan  dramas.  He  learned  from  his  lis- 
tening. The  players  had  their  day  and  the 
story-teller  began  again  with  renewed  vigor, 
now  to  be  called  the  novelist,  and  to  have  every 
province  of  life  open  for  the  supply  of  his 
materials  and  to  have  his  writings  classed  among 
the  arts. 

Fiction  as  Art.  —  As  art,  fiction  appeals  to  the 
mind,  just  as  painting,  sculpture,  architecture. 


TO    THE  STUDENT.  17 

and  other  art  forms  appeal  to  it.  By  degrees 
you  will  find  rhythm  in  the  rise  and  fall,  the 
climaxes  and  sub-climaxes,  the  critical  and  com- 
monplace moments  of  a  novel.  You  will 
appreciate  balance  and  proportion  in  its  parts 
and  in  its  progress  to  turning  point  and  from 
there  to  close.  You  will  have  intellectual  sat- 
isfaction in  its  plot  or  design  applied  to  life 
and  will  note  how  motive  determines  deed  and 
how  the  deed  can  be  traced  back  to  the  motive 
from  which  it  sprang.  You  will  see  local  color- 
ing in  the  harmonious  pictures  of  life  and  its 
environment.  You  will  appreciate  the  shade 
and  pei-spective  in  the  delicate,  gradual  leadings 
to  and  from  the  critical  moments,  till  each  event 
is  seen  to  grow  out  of  the  preceding  one,  and 
that  which  happens  seems  to  be  the  only 
thing  which  could  happen  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

Scope  of  the  Novel.  The  novel  is  to-day  the 
medium  through  which  mind  speaks  to  minds 
upon  matters  langing  from  the  greatest  to  the 
least  moment.  It  is  the  medium  through  which 
the  artistic  literary  sense  delights  most  to 
express  itself.  To  such  an  extent  is  tliis  true 
that  the  i>layei's  are  no  longei'  in  the  fiont. 
They  are  .seeing  their  art  api»lied  hy  the  story- 
teller. 


IH  THK   sroiiV  TELLERS    ART. 

The  future  of  the  novel  no  one  can  tell  ;  but 
all  may  be  sure  that  its  expression  of  life  must 
be  adequate  to  life,  or  it  will,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  have  to  draw  a  halt.  Nature  avenges 
any  lopping  off  of  one  side  of  life  here  as  she 
does  elsewhere  ;  her  laws  are  inexorable.  This 
much  seems  true  at  least :  Art  cannot  be  sus- 
tained when  it  is  based  upon  the  assumption 
that  environment,  heredity,  and  habit  are  all  the 
factors  needed  in  making  up  the  final  result ; 
there  is  a  fourth  factor,  —  spirit,  —  which  cannot 
be  counted  out  nor  counted  in,  in  any  definite 
certainty  of  measure,  but  it  must  be  counted  in 
if  the  story-teller's  art  is  to  hold  in  the  future 
the  place  it  holds  to-day  as  a  great  shaping 
factor  in  the  life  of  our  time.  Charles  Reade 
says  : 

"  I  have  labored  to  make  my  readers  realize 
those  appalling  facts  of  the  day  which  most 
men  know  but  not  one  in  a  thousand  compre- 
hends and  not  one  in  a  hundred  thousand  real- 
izes, until  fiction  —  which,  whatever  you  may 
have  been  told  to  the  contrary,  is  the  highest, 
widest,  noblest,  and  greatest  of  all  the  arts  — 
comes  to  his  aid,  studies,  penetrates,  digests  the 
hard  facts  of  chronicles  and  blue  books  and  ' 
makes  the  dry  bones  live."  —  Critic,  November 
19,  1896. 


TO    THE  STUDENT.  19 

The  Short  Story.  —  The  latest  development  in 
the  story-teller's  art  is  the  artistic  short  story. 
It  was  one  of  our  own  countrymen,  Edgar  Allan 
Poe,  who  founded  the  school  of  the  artistic 
short  story.  The  French  were  the  first  to  dis- 
cover this  and  to  apply  Poe's  rules  as  laid  down 
in  his  essay,  "  The  Philosophy  of  Composition." 
Poe  advanced  the  idea  of  commencing  at  climax 
and  working  forward  to  heginning,  and  also 
that  of  first  studying  motives  and  then  con- 
structing character  therefrom.  Upon  this  theory 
is  based  the  whole  "  Sherlock  Holmes  "  family 
of  stories,  Tlie  artistic  short  story  is  modeled 
upon  the  pattern  of  the  drama  and  has  marked 
characteristics.  Fiction  is  here  seen  for  the 
fii-st  time  as  a  balanced  whole.  It  is  prophesied 
tliat  this  form  will  affect  the  future  novel,  both 
as  to  structure  and  length.  The  art  in  the  pat- 
tern short  story  may  be  realized  by  comparing 
the  stories  of  Maupassant  with  the  "  Arabian 
Nights,"  which  live  because  of  their  appeal  to 
the  imaginatiun  and  not  because  of  their  artis- 
tic structure.  They  lack  [)ei"spective  and  tlieir 
quick  .succession  of  events  sliows  no  proportion. 
They  do  not  conceal  the  knowledge  and  skill 
which  the  modern  artist  conceals  in  liis  work. 

In  the  McClure's  M<i//aziiie  for  Novend)cr, 
IHOO,  Airs.  Kli/alx'th  Pb<-lps  Ward  .says  tliat  the 


-<)  THE  STOHY-TELLER'S   ART. 

short  story  is  imperfectly  understood  as  a  form 
of  fiction;  that,  while  it  is  already  a  higldy 
developed  specimen  of  workmanship,  it  is 
destined  to  become  far  more  exquisite  than  it 
now  is.  She  thinks  a  short  magazine  story  one 
of  the  finest  forms  of  expression.  No  inspira- 
tion is  too  noble  for  it  ;  no  amount  of  work  too 
severe  for  it. 

Writers  of  Short  Stories.  —  Kipling  is  at  pres- 
ent the  prince  of  short-story  writers  in  England 
(though  his  home  is  in  America).  The  artistic 
short  stories  of  character-study  rank  high. 
Henry  James  leads  in  the  study  of  character. 
Mary  E.  Wilkins  is  pronounced  by  critics  as 
the  most  artistic  of  women  writers  in  this  field, 
and,  though  narrow  in  range,  she  excels  in  effect- 
ive dramatic  structure,  in  selecting  significant 
detail,  and  in  good  judgment.  '•'•  The  New 
England  Nun  "  conforms  to  all  the  requirements 
of  the  artistic  short  story.  Tolstoi  holds  an 
undisputed  place  as  a  writer  of  the  short  story, 
and  the  praise  accorded  to  his  "Master  and 
Man  "  is  well  deserved.  His  stories  "  The  Long 
Exile  "  and  "  Does  a  Man  Need  Much  Land  ?  " 
are  as  good. 

This  glance  at  the  story-teller  and  his  art 
shows  that  to  study  fiction  is  to  study  life  ;  it  is 
to  know  character  and  all  that  goes  to  the  mak- 


MATERIALS.  21 

ing  of  character.  It  is  to  increase  the  love  of 
literary  art  and  to  see  its  relation  to  the  other 
fine  art*;. 


III.     MATERIALS. 

No  artist  creates  the  materials  out  of  which 
he  forms  his  art-product.  George  Eliot  embodied 
much  of  her  own  experience  in  "  Mill  on  the 
Floss."  Shakespeare  found  in  legend  and  in 
history  the  substance  that  was  ready  to  shape 
itself  into  ever-living  dramas  at  the  touch  of  his 
genius.  Wagner  harmonized  the  folk-songs  of 
Germany  in  his  ''  Meistersinger,"  and  Raphael 
painted  the  Sistine  Madonna  in  the  flowering  of 
an  art  period  which  had  for  its  inheritance  all 
that  had  been  done  since  Cimabue,  over  two 
hundred  yeai"s  before,  carried  his  crude  picture 
of  Mother  and  Child  in  procession  before  an 
adoring  multitude. 

Sources  of  Materials.  —  The  sources  from 
which  the  story-tfllcr  gets  the  materials  for  his 
art  are  the  world  of  nature  and  the  world  of 
man. 

Materials  from  Nature.  —  The  world  of  na- 
ture luuii.shes  him  natural  scenery,  animal  and 
phiiit  life  ;  the  movements  and  forces  of  nature 
and  the  various  natural  lihenomena  seen  in  the 


-2  TlIK   STOUY-TKLLER-S    AliT. 

roll  of  the  seasons,  the  courses  of  day  and  night, 
in  storm  and  calm,  in  the  stars  set  in  blue, 
in  tlie  music  of  the' pines,  and  in  all  the  subtle 
inlluences  thatap[)eal  to  the  spirit  of  man.  He 
uses  the  materials  gathered  from  the  external 
world  to  give  a  setting  or  background  to  his 
story,  to  give  it  coloring,  or  to  reflect  the  mood 
of  the  story.  He  may  also  use  it  for  purely  ar- 
tistic purposes,  i.e.,  to  increase  the  sense  of  the 
sublime  or  the  sense  of  reverence,  to  furnish 
contrast,  to  foreshadow  coming  events,  or  to 
relieve  tension. 

Materials  from  the  World  of  Man.  —  The 
world  of  man  furnishes  the  story-teller  with 
materials  from  human  life  lived  individually 
and  under  the  institutions  of  government, 
church,  industry,  education,  and  the  other  social 
institutions  that  foster  progress  in  social  life. 
This  realm  gives  him  superstition,  legend,  his- 
tory, travel,  literature,  science,  and  art,  and 
brings  him  into  touch  with  other  times  and 
places.  In  addition  to  these  things  the  world 
of  man  furnishes  language  or  the  means  by 
which  the  story-teller  communicates  his  thought. 
Since  he  concerns  himself  mainly  in  depicting 
life,  he  makes  most  use  of  the  elements  that  go 
to  the  making  of  character.  He  employs  all 
the  thoughts,  passions,  loves,  hates,  ambitions, 


MATERIALS.  23 

the  depths  of  sorrow  or  the  heights  of  happiness 
to  portray  his  characters  in  living  rehitions. 
He  puts  these  attributes  into  human  actions 
from  which  are  to  be  learned  their  **unsermon- 
ized "  lessons.  Some  novelists  take  a  single 
attribute  and  study  it  in  all  varieties  of  its 
manifestation  before  proceeding  to  embody  it  in 
character  ;  others  prefer  to  let  real  life  set  forth 
its  imperfect  portrayal  of  attributes  ;  and  so  the 
way  in  which  materials  are  used  determines  to 
a  great  extent  the  species  to  which  a  work  of 
fiction  belongs. 

The  Story-Teller's  own  Power.  —  Within  him- 
self the  stoiy-teller  linds  liis  imagination  the 
great  creative  power  without  whicli  lie  could 
not  form  his  crude  materials,  gathered  here 
and  there,  into  artistic  wholes.  It  is  the  im- 
agination that  develops  plot,  furnishes  situa- 
tions, shapes  character,  and  uses  nature  to 
create  a  life  that  is  often  more  vivid  tlian  the 
one  actually  lived  by  the  reader.  The  story- 
teller furthermore  assumes  that  an  appreciative 
response  will  follow  the  ajjpeal  made  by  his 
work,  that  what  lias  come  from  mind  will  attract 
mind.  Shakespeare  doubtless  never  forgot 
that  he  was  a  playwright  and  that  he  must 
a|)|ieal  to  |K'Oplu. 


*.\. 


24  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 


Suggestive  Questions. 

1.  Can  an  author  create  his  materials? 

2.  What  are  the  sources  from  which  he  gets 

them  ? 

3.  Give  examples  of  the  use  made  of  materials 

by  great  authors,  artists,  and  musical 
composers. 

4.  What  faculty  of  mind  is  it  that  constructs 

the  art  product  out  of  the  raw  materials 
from  the  world  of  man  and  the  world  of 
nature  ? 

5.  Classify  materials  used  in  stories  which  you 

know,  as  follows  :  — 
I.    Materials  from  the  external  world. 

1)  Scenes  —  the  nature  of  —  distinctive 

feature  of. 

2)  Sounds  in  nature  —  from  what  source 

—  the    sea  —  the    wind  —  other 
movements  of  nature  —  animals. 

3)  The  movements  and  forces  of  nature. 

Locate  and  describe  them. 

4)  How  does  the  author  use  nature  in 

this  story  ? 

5)  From  which  source  does  the  author 

draw  most  material  ? 


SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS.  25 

6)  Has  he  used  nature  as  a  setting  or 

as    an    aid     in    developing    his 
characters  ? 
II.    From  the  world  of  humanity. 

1)  What  people  are  portrayed? 

2)  What  attributes  of  man  are  brought 

prominently  forth?  I.e.,  love, 
hate,  jealousy,  courage,  ambition, 
selfishness,  or  any  passion. 

3)  Wliat  material  is  used  from  institu- 

tional life  ? 

4)  Is  the  love  pictured  that  (a)  between 

maiden  and  lover  ?  {h)  parent  and 
child?  (c)  friend  and  friend?  [d) 
luler  and  subject  ? 

.">)  Has  the  author  used  history — tra- 
dition—  superstition?  In  what 
way  ? 

0)  What  tradition  used  by  Hawthorne 
in  "■  Tlie  Great  Stone  Fat-e "  ? 
What  liistorical  custom  used  by 
Scott  in  "The  Lady  of  llie 
Lake"?  What  legend  used  by 
Irving  in  "Sleepy  Hollow"? 

7)  Xote  the  haniiony  between  tlie  stonu 

and  the  progress  of  tlie  story  in 
"David  Copperlield."  What  dues 
it  show  ? 


26  TIIK  STOHY-TKLLER'S   ART. 


IV.     THE  SETTING. 

The  setting,  or  the  time,  place,  and  surround- 
ings in  Avliieh  the  scenes  of  the  story  are  laid, 
forms  an  important  part  of  fiction.  Unless  the 
characters  and  events  are  put  in  the  time  and 
place  in  which  the}^  belong,  the  story  loses 
force.  Many  writers  so  closely  identify  their 
characters  with  their  setting  that  they  are  called 
"  novelists  of  the  soil."  Mary  E.  Wilkins  is  a 
writer  of  this  class.  One  touches  New  Eng- 
land when  one  comes  in  contact  with  her 
personages. 

The  author  may  give  the  setting  definitely, 
as  in  "  Ivanhoe,"  or  he  may  leave  the  reader  to 
infer  it,  as  in  '•'  Sir  Launfal,"  which  is  not  set 
in  England,  as  many  suppose,  but  in  the  imagi- 
nation of  the  poet. 

The  setting  is  often  told  from  the  life  por- 
trayed, from  the  scenery,  from  allusions  made 
l)y  tlie  author,  and  from  the  characters  employed. 
For  example,  the  presence  of  Richard  Coeur  de 
Lion  in  '^Tlie  Talisman"  and  "Ivanhoe"  would 
alone  locate  these  stories  with  reference  to  chiv- 
alry and  the  C'rusades. 


siggestive  qlestioxs.  27 

Suggestive  Questions. 

1.  What  must  setting   include?     Why  is   it 

necessary? 

2.  How  is  it  determined  ? 

3.  Name  five  stories  which  you  know  to  have 

a  definite  setting. 

4.  Place  in  a  list  stories  whose  setting  could 

be  implied  by  the  story  itself.    Illustrate. 

5.  Name  a  story  which  is  set  in  chivalrous 

times ;  one  which  is  set  in   Civil   War 
times ;  one  that  belongs  to  this  time. 

6.  Name  a  story  whose  setting  is  in  the  im- 

agination,  or    not    associated  with  any 
special  time  or  place. 

7 .  Locate  in  a  general  way  these  stories  by  tlie 

charactei-s  or  the  suggestions  in  them : 

ti)  Heroine,  a  Puritan  maiden  ;  hero,  aii 
old  soldier.^"  Scenes  in  colonial 
times. 

/')  Chief  character,  a  colored  man  ;  main 
scenes  in  a  cotton  field. 

c)  The  most  prominent  iigurc,  a  cow- 
boy ;  tlie  chief  interest,  gold- 
digging. 

'/)  ('hief  cliaiacters,  a  maiden  and  licr 
lover.  'I'lic  story  relates  the  sad 
experiences  of  rxile. 


28  THE  STORY-TKLLKli'S   ART. 

8,  Wliat  setting  would  you  give  a  story  of 

pioneer  days  in  your  own  state? 

9.  In  what  setting  would  you  place  a  story 

belonging  to  England  in  King  Alfred's 
time? 
10.    Note    the  setting  in    "  Silas   Marner,"   in 
"  Hard  Times,"  in  ''  The  Talisman." 

V.     THE  PLOT. 

Essentials  to  the  Mastery  of  Plot.  —  The  first 
essential  to  the  mastery  of  plot  is  mastery  of 
the  story  as  a  whole.  The  plot  is  hidden  in 
the  story ;  we  do  not  find  it  until  we  know  the 
story.  We  are  first  attracted  by  character,  by 
incident,  by  description ;  as  the  story  advances 
all  of  these  things  take  shape  around  a  central 
idea.  We  start  at  a  different  point  from  the 
author.  He  started  with  plot  —  from  within  ; 
we  start  with  incident  —  from  without.  It  is 
not  till  we  get  to  the  interior  that  we  can  find 
our  way  out  as  he  found  his  way  out. 

All  the  class  should  master  the  story.  Let 
one  begin  to  tell  it;  another,  and  yet  others, 
around  the  class,  continue  it.  Stop  short  of 
monotony.  Familiarity  gives  a  content  for  the 
imagination  to  work  upon.  Just  as  the  pres- 
ence of  any  work  of  art  influences  the  spiritual 


THf:  PLOT.  29 

nature,  so  will  familiarity  with  a  ma^sterpiece 
in  story-telling  enable  it  to  influence  the  artistic 
sense.  If  the  mind  is  stored  with  subject-mat- 
ter, the  power  that  would  be  used  up  in  the 
acquisition  of  fact  at  an  intense  moment  will 
1x3  used  in  the  higher  emotions  of  aesthetic 
enjoyment :  vistas  will  be  opened ;  ideas  formed ; 
epoclis  in  life  made. 

What  the  Plot  Is.  —  The  plot  of  a  novel  has 
been  variously  defined  as  "design  applied  to 
life  " ;  as  the  chain  of  incidents  without  which 
the  stor}'  could  not  exist;  as  that  group  of 
incidents  which  clu>ster  about  the  life  of  the 
hero  and  which  are  absolutely  essential  to  the 
story.  The  characteristics  of  a  good  plot  are 
that  it  seems  probal)le,  has  consistency  of  parts, 
or  agrees  with  itself ;  that  it  is  managed  so  as 
to  hold  the  reader's  attention  throughout,  and 
has  provision  for  relief  and  climaxes.  The  plot 
is  not  that  part  of  the  story  which  thrusts  itself 
upon  tlie  reader  at  first,  but,  rather,  that  part 
whicli  is  beliind  all  and  whicli  api)ears  through 
all,  as  tlic  fdiin  of  a  (iicck  statue  ajjpears 
tbroiigli   tlie  graceful  drapery. 

Unity  of  Plot.  —  The  plot  gets  its  unity  from 
the  hero  or  heroine.  The  [jlot  interests  have 
to  do  witli  tlic  unfolding  of  the  hero's  chanic- 
t»'r.      .\ovfls  an*  cliissitied  ujion  the  impoitance 


80  ////•;  STOKl'-TELLKR'S   ART. 

tliey  place  upon  plot.  (See  chapter  upon  real- 
ism.) The  distinction  between  plot  and  story 
should  be  kept  clearly  iii  mind.  The  jolot  is 
the  skeleton  or  framework  ;  the  story  the  artistic 
production. 

How  to  Find  the  Plot.  —  To  find  the  plot,  ex- 
amine the  incidents  in  the  story;  determine 
which  are  absolutely  essential  to  the  life  of  the 
story  and  which  are  used  for  the  development 
or  embellishment  of  these  incidents.  Having 
determined  the  plot  incidents  proper,  determine 
which  one  out  of  the  group  forms  the  turning 
point  or  dramatic  climax  and  those  leading  to 
and  from  it.  The  dramatic  climax  may  be  de- 
termined by  its  being  the  place  where  conse- 
quence sets  in ;  the  place  from  which  one  can 
look  both  ways — to  beginning  and  to  end.  Here 
one  sees  the  beginning  (for  want  of  a  better 
phrase)  begin  to  end,  and  the  end  begin  to  begin. 

In  writing  the  plot  of  given  stories,  only  plot 
incidents  proper  should  receive  prominent  men- 
tion. The  developing  incidents  that  lead  to 
and  from  plot  incidents  proper  ought  to  be 
mentioned  by  mere  word  or  suggestion. 

How  to  Write  the  Plot  of  a  Given  Story.  —  Let 
the  hero  be  the  unifying  element  for  the  vari- 
ous incidents.  Underplots,  or  the  plot  within 
the  plot,  as  the  Cass  story  in  "  Silas  Marner  " 


THE  PLOT.  31 

and  the  Gloster  episode  in  •'  King  Lear,"  may 
receive  separate  attention. 

Plot  of  "  Ivakhoe." 

The  following  plot  of  '•  Ivanhoe "  was  written  by  a 
pupil  in  class  in  eight  minutes,  without  notes.  The 
limit  of  time  for  the  class  was  ten  minutes.  The  his- 
torical setting  was  given  at  a  previous  lesson. 

"Cedric  with  Rowena,  Ivanhoe's  lady  love,  shelters 
for  the  night  Prior  Aymer,  the  Templar,  his  disguised 
son,  and  Isaac  of  York.  At  the  tournament,  soon  after, 
the  identity  of  the  wounded  but  meritorious  Ivanhoe  is 
discovered,  and  Richard  apjwars  as  the  Black  Knight. 
A  plot  of  De  Hracy  to  win  Rowena  caused  him,  with 
the  Tenijtlar  and  De  Boeuf,  to  capture  in  the  forest  and 
imprison  in  Torqiiilstone  Cedric's  company  and  the 
Jew's.  De  Braoy  is  refused  by  Rowena.  and  the  Tem- 
plar by  Rebecca.  The  Black  Knight  and  outlaws  storm 
the  castle,  which  is  finally  burned.  Cedric,  Ivanhoe, 
Rowena,  Wamlja,  and  the  Jew  are  saved.  De  Bracy  is 
banished,  De  Boeuf  dies,  and  the  Templar  escapes  witli 
Reltecca  to  Temjilestowe,  where  she  is  accused  of  witch- 
ery and  condemned  to  die,  but  is  saved  liy  Ivaniioe,  who 
slays  the  Tt-mplar  and  who  marries  Rowena.  Richard 
becomes  king  and  i)ardons  his  false  brother  John. 
Rebecca  ami   \\\i-  .Fiw   li-avc   Kngland." 

SuCiOKSTIVK    (^)rKSTl()NS. 

1 .  Dcniie  ii  plot. 

2.  What    pii'i)aration   is  ahsolutcly  necessary 

to  thr  stndy  of  plot? 


32  Tim  SrORY-TKLLER'S  ART. 

3.  How  does  the  reader  approach  the  plot? 

The  writer? 

4.  What  are  the  chaiacteristics  of  a  good  plot? 

5.  Is  a  complicated  plot  essential? 

6.  Name  a  writer  who  depends  largely  upon 

plot  for  his  interest. 

7.  What  class  of  fiction  depends  little  upon 

plot  ?     Illustrate. 

8.  Name  as  many  stories  as  you  can  that  sus- 

tain the  interest  independent  of  plot. 

9.  What  is  the  dramatic  climax  or  turning  point 

of  the  story  ?     How  is  it  determined  ? 

10.  What  direction  is  given  about  writing  a 

plot?     Give  the  plot  of  as  many  short 
stories  as  you  can. 

11.  How  do  you  distinguish  between  plot  and 

story  ? 

VT.     THE  STUDY  OF  INCIDENT. 

The  subject  of  incident  is  perhaps  one  of  the 
most  important  in  the  study  of  fiction,  since 
it  is  the  point  at  which  the  reader  enters  the 
stoiy.  To  be  able  to  master  the  various  inci- 
dents in  a  story  is  to  be  able  to  tj^nslate  con- 
crete or  artistic  expression  into  thought.  One's 
aj)preciation  increases  in  proportion  to  his  powei" 
to  go  behind  incident  to  thought.     Here  one 


TUE  STUDY  OF  INCIDENT.  33 

realizes  that  the  story-teller  sees  fit  to  show 
us  the  inner  life  of  man  by  letting  man  act  out 
that  inner  life,  i-ather  than  by  telling  us  in 
plain  statement.  For  example,  Scott  does  not 
tell  that  James  Fitz- James  loves  animals,  but 
he  causes  one  to  hear  liim  mourn  over  his  gal- 
lant gray.  He  does  not  say  that  James  Fitz- 
James  is  bold,  but  one  knows  it  upon  hearing 
his  speech  when  the  Clan-Alpine  men  rise  be- 
fore him.  And  so  one  admires  the  modesty  of 
Ellen  Douglas  when  she  pushes  back  her  boat 
at  the  stranger's  appearance,  the  nobility  of  the 
outlawed  Koderick  Dim,  and  the  high  spirit 
of  Malcolm  Graeme  swimmincr  the  lake  —  all 
of  these  deeds  are  admired  in  proportion  to 
one's  ability  to  translate  them  into  tliought. 
On  the  other  hand,  after  one  lias  learned  to 
translate  deed  into  thought,  he  proceeds  from 
the  inward  to  tlie  outward,  from  tliouglit  to 
deed.  When  one  knows  a  character  to  be  pos- 
sessed of  certain  attributes  he  can  in  a  measure 
determine  what  that  character  will  do  iiiidt'r 
certain  (iircuinstances.  This  justifies  the  coii- 
struction  of  futures  for  charactei'S,  —  indeed,  it 
is  the  very  pivot  u|)oii  which  the  active  part  of 
a  story  turns;  it  is  this  fii(;t  that  lies  at  the 
bottom  of  plot  and  tin-  \aiious  incidents  used 
to  develop  it  into  a  wmk  of  art. 


34  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

Ill    a    well-appointed    story,    not   only   must 
everything  that  happens  seem  to  grow  naturally 
out  of  the  situation,  but  it  must  seem  to  be  the 
only  thing  that  could  happen  under  tlie  circum- 
stances.     This  gives  rise  to  the   classification 
of    incidents,    according    to    their    importance, 
into  plot  incident  proper  and  developing  incident, 
each  having  an  especial  office  of  its  own.     The 
author  knows  his  plot  before  he  writes,  but  he 
frequently  improvises  means  for  its  unfolding 
as  the  lines  flow  from  his  pen.     These  means 
for  unfolding  are  called  developing  incidents ; 
they  lead  to  and    from   the    plot   incident   to 
which  they  belong ;  they  furnish  the  conditions 
and   the  successive   steps   of   development  for 
their  plot  incident.      They  furnish  the  cumu- 
lative effect  necessary  for  the  sul>climax,  which 
a  plot  incident  always  forms.     They  hide  the 
bare  plot  incidents   and  give  the  story  grace 
and  finish.     A  plot  incident,  with  the  groujj 
of  developing  incident  which  leads  to  it  as  a 
necessity   arising    out   of   certain    causes,    and 
from  it  so  as  to  make  results  seem  as  natural 
as  causes,  forms  an  episode.     An  ei)isode  is  a 
miniature  story  in  itself,  and,  in  its  turn,  acts 
as  a  developing  incident  in  the  progress  of  the 
plot  as  a  whole.     For  example,  the  first  plot 
incident  proper  in  the   "  Lady  of    the  Lake  " 


THE  STUDY  OF  IXCIUKXT.  35 

is  the  meeting  between  Fitz-James  and  Ellen. 
Leading  up  to  this  it  is  necessary  to  have  the 
chase,  necessary  for  Fitz-James  to  out-distance 
his  companions,  to  lose  his  horse  and  his  way, 
and  to  blow  his  horn. 

All  of  these  are  developing  incidents  leading 
up  to  the  plot  incident  proper,  —  James's  meet- 
ing with  Ellen  Douglas.  The  developing  inci- 
dents leading  away  from  this  take  Fitz-James 
to  the  home  of  Roderick  Dhu,  provide  him 
his  night's  lodging,  and  send  him  away  next 
morning.  This  group  of  incidents  forms  an 
episode  of  which  the  climax  is  the  plot  incident 
proper. 

Incidents  may  be  furllier  chissified  by  their 
kind  into  dramatic  or  conmionplace  ;  into  char- 
acter incident  or  into  incident  purely  artistic ; 
also  into  incident  used  for  relief,  for  foreshad- 
owing, for  contrast ;  to  set  forth  -  custom  or 
supei-stition,  and  to  give  any  information  wliich 
the  autlior  wishes  to  convey. 

A  Dramatic  Incident.  —  A  dramatic  incident  or 
situation  is  ])etter  known  by  illustration  and 
comparison  than  by  definition.  For  example, 
two  lx)ys  are  walking  (piictly  to  school  on  a 
snowy  morning.  Tliis  is  a  connnonplace  inci- 
dent;  tliere  are  hiindreds  of  l)oys  walking  to 
school  (III   this   morning.     The   two  l>oys  come 


36  THE  STORY-TELLER'S   ART. 

to  a  slope,  when  one  falls  back  of  the  other, 
raises  his  arms  in  the  air,  and  cries  to  the  one 
who  is  in  front  of  him,  "  Now,  say  your  pray- 
ere  !  "  He  suddenly  rushes  forward  and  pushes 
the  front  boy  into  the  snowdrift.  This  is  dra- 
matic. It  is  a  commonplace  incident  changed 
to  a  dramatic  incident;  it  shows  more  feeling, 
gives  a  more  vivid  i:)icture,  is  fraught  with 
greater  results.  It  is  accompanied  by  dramatic 
conversation,  though  this  is  not  always  the  case 
with  dramatic  situations.  One  may  be  stricken 
with  great  grief  or  surprise  and  present  a  most 
dramatic  situation  without  speaking  a  word. 
Tableaux  are  dramatic  situations  which  explain 
themselves  without  words.  Dramatic  situations 
often  represent  crises  in  the  course  of  lives  or 
events. 

How  to  Study  Incident.  —  An  incident  may  be 
studied  by  determining  its  kind;  if  it  be  dra- 
matic, by  noting  whether  or  not  it  is  accom- 
panied by  dramatic  conversation,  and  by  the 
outcome.  If  it  be  a  plot  incident  proper,  decide 
where  it  belongs  with  regard  to  turning  point 
—  is  it  before  or  after?  What  is  its  importance 
in  the  outcome?  If  it  be  a  developing  incident, 
what  plot  incident  does  it  lead  to  or  away  from? 
If  it  be  a  character  incident,  look  behind  it  into 
the  motive  out  of  which  it  sprang,  and  deter- 


THE  STUDY  OF  INCIDENT.  37 

mine  how  it  portrays  the  character.  Does  it 
show  character  growth  in  its  beginning  ?  in  its 
advancement?  or  does  it  illustrate  character 
full  grown  ?  If  an  incident  be  for  purely  artis- 
tic purposes,  justify  its  presence  in  the  light  of 
the  story  of  which  it  is  a  part.  Learn  to  group 
into  one  episode  all  the  developing  incidents 
that  lead  directly  to  and  from  a  plot  incident ; 
then  it  will  be  easy  to  trace  the  development 
of  interest,  to  appreciate  the  artistic  value  of 
little  things,  and  to  realize  the  inevitableness 
of  the  hual  outcome. 

Nothing  fixes  the  study  of  incident  and  plot 
in  the  mind  so  well  as  an  attempt  to  write  a 
plot.  The  following  plot  was  selected  from 
a  lesson  assigned  two  weeks  in  advance,  to  be 
written  at  home.  The  directions  were :  "  Bring 
to  class  four  paragraplis  upon  an  imaijinarif 
novel  of  your  own  writing.  Let  paragra})h  1 
contain  the  title,  author,  size,  publisher,  price. 
Paragrapli  II,  the  setting,  including  time,  place, 
and  main  characters.  Paragraph  III,  the  plot. 
Paragraph  IV,  comment  upon  the  book  after  the 
manner  of  piess  comment.  For  hints,  see  the 
Literary  Nkwh,  Liti'rary  World,  Literary  Diyest^ 
The  Crifie,  The  Dial,  and  other  papers  of  like 
character.  Nothing  but  the  foui-  i)aiagraplis 
need  be  written.     The  rest  is  to  be  imagined." 


38  the  story-teller' a  art. 

(Student's  Paper.) 

1.      "  Witty  Dan:' 

A  book  that  will  create  considerable  com- 
ment among  readers  of  juvenile  fiction  is  "Witty 
Dan,"  the  latest  work  of  Hendricks  Nemo.  (In 
one  volume,  cloth  bound,  price  78  cts.,  and  pub- 
lished by  the  Nihil  Publishing  Co.,  Norainloco, 
Ind.) 

II.     Setting. 

The  scenes  of  this  story  are  laid  at  Indian- 
apolis, and  the  incidents  mentioned  in  it  oc- 
curred during  the  administration  of  Governor 
Matthews. 

III.     Plot. 

Dan  Trowbridge,  through  the  unjust  impris- 
onment of  his  father  as  an  embezzler,  has  to 
leave  school  to  earn  a  support  for  the  family, 
He  is  serving  as  elevator  boy  at  the  State  Capi- 
tol, when  sent  in  an  emergency  to  the  Denison 
Hotel  for  a  paper.  The  hotel  is  on  fire,  but 
Dan  does  his  errand  through  smoke  and  flame. 
He  picks  up  a  sealed  envelope  that  lies  on  the 
floor  as  he  comes  out.  The  governor  com- 
mends him  for  his  bravery,  and  two  months 
after,  through  the  contents  of  the  envelope  that 


STUDENT'S   PAPER.  39 

Dan  picked  up  in  the  burning  hotel,  his  father 
is  pardoned  and  given  a  position.  Dan  is  sent 
to  school  and  the  family  made  happy. 


IV.     Comvient. 

Mr.  Nemo  certainly  deserves  much  credit  for 
the  skill  and  talent  he  displays  in  the  writing 
of  this  novel.  He  succeeds  in  giving  a  true 
and  interesting  account  of  life  in  the  metropolis 
of  Indiana.  His  descriptions  of  the  buildings 
for  which  Indianapolis  is  famous  are  the  clear- 
est and  most  accurate  ever  written. 

There  is  also  in  this  story  a  thrilling  account 
of  the  row  which  took  place  in  the  State  House 
over  the  Fee  and  Salary  Bill  early  in  March, 
1895,  and  the  author  necessarily  strips  bare  and 
holds  up  to  the  reader  the  corruption  of  the 
legislature  by  which  the  bill  wiis  considered. 
The  great  Denison  House  fire  of  February, 
1895,  likewise  receives  a  thrilling  description, 
and  Mr.  Nemo  gives  to  the  Indianapolis  Fire 
Departmejit  deserved  praise. 

Throughout  the  story  there  runs  a  strain  of 
sparkling  wit  and  liumor.  The  language,  in- 
deed, is  so  simple  that  very  young  readei-s 
will  have  no  <liniculty  in  comprehending  the 
plot.     This  book,  furthermore,  lyings  out  the 


40  TIIK  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

better  characteristics  of  the  American  boy, 
tlirough  the  steadfastness  of  Dan  Trowbridge, 
whose  example  will  exert  a  most  ennobling 
intluence  over  the  readers  of  this  book. 


Questions. 

(Based  upon  the  foregoing  text.) 

Incident.  —  1.  Why  is  an  understanding  of 
incident  important  in  the  study  of  fic- 
tion? 

2.  How  does  the  novelist  tell  of  life? 

3.  Mention    incidents   that  set  forth   certain 

attributes. 

4.  Assume  an  attribute  and  tell  how  the  per- 

son would  act  in  an  emei'gency. 

5.  How  must  every  incident  appear  in  every 

well-appointed  story  ? 

6.  How  are  incidents  classified  with  regard 

to  their  importance  in  the  plot? 

7.  What  is  a  developing  incident?    How  does 

it  perform  its  office? 

8.  How  do  developing  incidents  stand  related 

to  the  entire  story  ? 

9.  What  is  a  plot  incident? 

10.    What  is  an  episode?     Name  episodes  in 
stories  which  you  have  read. 


QUESTIONS.  41 

11.  Write  a  plot  of  the  "Lady  of  the  Lake." 

Indicate  same  by  diagram.  (Any  story 
may  be  substituted.) 

12.  Treat  the  incidents  in  the  episode  of  the 

combat  between  Fitz-James  and  Roder- 
ick Dhu  as  follows: 

a)  Make  a  list  of  the  developing  inci- 
dents leading  to  the  climax  of 
the  episode. 
h)  Designate  the  climax  of  episode. 
c)  Make  a  list  of  the  developing  inci- 
dents leading  from  the  climax. 
The  same  may  be  indicated  by 
diagram. 

13.  Give  examples  of  character  incident.     In- 

cident for  purpose  of  relief.  For  fore- 
shadowing. To  set  forth  custom  or 
superstition. 

14.  What  is  a  dramatic  incident?     How  char- 

acterized ? 
1.').    Witli    what    may  a  dramatic   incident   or 

moment  often  be  accompanied  ?    h\  what 

instances   may  a  dramatic   situation   be 

unaccompanied? 
lU.    illustrate  how  a  coninionplacc  incident  may 

l>e  clianged   into  a  dramatic  incident  or 

situation.     Give  illustrations   from   life 

a.K  well  lis  from  books. 


42  TllK  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

17.  Mention  some  dramatic  situations  that  you 

have  observed  in  life.      What  use  eouki 
be  made  of  them? 

18.  Give  directions  for  studying  an  incident. 

19.  Select  some  incident,  construct  therefrom 

a    plot,   and  write    four   paragraphs   as 

follows  :  — 

Par.  I.    Title,   author,   publisher,    price, 

size.      (The  writer  may  use    an 

assumed  name.) 
Par.  II.    Setting. 
Par.  III.    Plot. 
Par.  IV.    Comment,    after   the    manner 

of  press  comment. 
Note.  —  See  foregoing  exercise  by  student 
for  question  19. 

VII.     CHARACTER  STUDY. 

Character  study  is  the  life  of  a  novel. 
Through  it  one  enters  into  the  active  arena 
and  becomes  acquainted  with  all  that  interests 
humanity.  A  study  of  character  gives  pleasure 
and  leads  to  insight.  Through  it  the  names 
on  the  pages  of  the  story  become  alive  to  the 
reader.  Character  study  brings  one  to  a  reali- 
zation of  the  struggle  that  may  take  place  in 
a  human  soul.     This  is  eminently  true  in  the 


CHARACTER  STCBY.  43 

struggle  between  knighthood  and  manhood  in 
the  breast  of  Sir  Kenneth  in  the  banner  scene 
in  '•  The  TaHsman."  It  strengthens  one's  will 
to  see  this  knight  stand  before  Richard  and 
choose  death  with  honor  to  escape  with  dis- 
grace, although  four  ways  are  open  to  him  for 
escape.  The  powei"S  of  sympathy  and  love  are 
called  forth  by  the  feeble-minded  weaver  of  Rave- 
loe,  and  the  reader  better  understands  Eliot's 
quotation  from  Wordsworth  on  the  title-page. 

How  to  Study  Character.  —  The  characters  in 
a  stor}-  may  be  idealized  or  natural ;  they  may 
be  consistent  or  inconsistent  with  regard  to  the 
part  they  play  in  the  story.  A  character  may 
be  studied : 

1 .  liy  its  innate  tendencies,  or  its  inner  prompt- 
ings, independent  of  any  external  in- 
fluence. 
1^.  liy  its  environment,  or  surroundings,  and 
the  way  in  whicli  it  has  overcome  them 
or  been  overcome  by  them. 

3.  In  the  light  of  heredity,  or  inherited  traits. 

4.  Hy  its  manifestations  of  willing,  thinking, 

feeling. 
.0.    By  its  achievements,  or  what  it  has  accom- 
plished   ill    tlie    light   of    its    effort   and 
opportunity,  and   l)y  tlic  <l('veh)pmenl   i1 
makes. 


44  TllK  ISTORY-TKLLKIVS    ART. 

6.  Ry    notiiio-    all    that   a  character  says  and 

does,  all  that  is  said  and  done  to  him, 
and  all  that  is  said  about  him. 

7.  By  noting  the  dominant  motive  of  his  life, 

whether   it    be    love,    hate,    revenge,    a 
sense  of  duty,  selfishness,  or  forgiveness. 

8.  A  character  may  be  studied  by  putting  one's 

self    in   another's  place ;    by  being   the 
apple-woman,    the    newsboy,    the    boot- 
l)lack   for  a  time,   and   looking  at  life 
through    their   eyes.      Be    a   beggar,   a 
millionaire,   a    master,    or   a   slave,  and 
imagine    what   you   would    do   in  each 
situation. 
Upon  being  asked  how  he  studied  character, 
a  boy  said:    ''I   do   more   than   my  directions 
state.     I  take   my  character  out  of  the   book 
and  live  with  him  and  walk  with  him ;  he  be- 
comes my  comrade.     I  grow  to  know  him  so 
well  that  I  can  tell  what  he  would  do  under 
Other  circumstances   than    those   in   which  the 
author  placed  him.     I  even  ask  him  what  he 
thinks  of  me  and  of  certain  thinsrs." 

The  following  character  studies  were  written 
in  class  without  notes  in  ten  minutes. 


CHARALTEli  STUDY.  43 

Rebecca. 

(Written  by  a  boy  of  sixteen.) 

Not  in  the  whole  of  Scott's  tietioii  is  there 
another  Kebecca.  We  like  Rebecca  and  admire 
her — why?  I  like  Rebecca  so  much  that  I  think 
less  of  Ivanhoe  because  he  did  not  love  her 
more  and  marry  her  instead  of  Rowena.  And 
I  like  that  fierce  Templar  more  because  of  his 
passion  for  Rebecca,  even  though  it  was  such 
a  rude  passion.  She  had  such  wonderful  self- 
control  and  will-power  and  bravery.  Think 
how,  though  she  loved  Ivanhoe  with  all  the 
depth  of  her  nature,  she  never  showed  it,  never 
resented  liis  loving  another.  Think  how  she 
preferred  death  to  dishonor;  how  she  would 
have  cast  herself  from  the  dizzy  turret.  The 
character  she  showed  in  that  interview  would 
have  given  her  a  place  in  the  ranks  of  the  truly 
great.  Hers  was  the  stuff  of  which  martyrs 
are  made. 

Note.  — Tliis  sketch  shows  that  an  intensive 
study  of  liction  tends  rather  to  foster  than  to 
crush  spontaneity;  it  is  a  valuable  illustration, 
Ixicause  the  personality  of  the  writer  pulsates 
tlirough  every  sentence,  giving  it  life.  The 
sefoiid  sketcli  shows  iiioi-e  of  class  (liill. 


4t)  THE  STOHY-TELLEK'S  ART. 

SalADIN:     a    ClIAKACTKK    StUDY. 

(Written  by  a  girl.) 

Saladin  possessed  all  the  prudence  and  fore- 
thought of  a  monarch  in  the  truest  sense,  and 
also  the  nobility  and  generosity  which  might 
grace  any  name.  He  showed  all  the  attributes 
which  we  give  to  the  Christian,  while  Richard, 
on  the  other  hand,  seems  to  display  the  head- 
strongness  and  liery  temper  which  we  com- 
monly assign  to  a  heathen.  He  had  all  the 
wiry  agility  of  his  race,  and  it  stood  him  in 
good  stead  in  his  combat  with  Kenneth.  It 
was  pure  generosity  and  nobility  "of  character 
which  led  Iiim  to  exercise  the  healing  art  upon 
Richard.  Though  humble  as  a  physician,  when 
stung  l)y  Richard's  ingratitude  he  assumes  a 
lofty  and  kingly  ])eariiig.  What  was  more 
noble  than  his  treatment  of  Kenneth,  now  his 
slave  !  But  Saladin  is  seen  to  greatest  ad- 
vantage in  his  own  camp  and  surrounded  by 
believers  of  his  own  faith,  where  his  native 
courtesy  and  kindness  mark  him  one  of  nature's 
kings.  In  all  his  disguises  he  is  ever  the  same, 
loyal  to  his  faith,  true  and  even  generous  in 
his  treatment  of  enemies,  and  faithful  to  his 
friends. 

(Time,  10  miii.) 


suggestive  exercises.  47  . 

Suggestive  Exercises. 

1.  Bring  to  cLoss  a  study  of  some  character 

from  the  "■  Lady  of  the  Lake  "  or  from 
any  other  books  that  you  know. 

2.  l>ring  a  character  study  from  life. 

3.  Name  book  characters  that  are  marked  by 

their  will-power,  by  a  tender  conscience  ; 
tliat  have  powerful  intellect.  Prove  by 
citing  your  authority. 

4.  What  charactei"s  have  you  found  idealized? 

What  characters  realistic?    What  saints? 
Sinnei"s? 
o.    Howells  speaks  of  letting  conduct  do  its 
''  unsermonized  oihce."      What  do  you 
understand  by  the  expression? 

6.  Is  Roderick    Dhu    idealized?    Ellen  Doug- 

las? 

7.  Tell    liow    you    study   a   chaiacter    from 

life. 

8.  Mention  a  list  of  book  characters  that  are 

very  real  to  you.  Locate  them. 
0.  What  (juality  of  character  indicated  by  the 
hoarding  of  nioncy  U>i  its  own  sake? 
Illustrate,  liy  the  founding  of  educa- 
tional institutions? 
10.  Wlio  is  your  favorite  book  character? 
Why? 


48  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

11.  Do  you  prefer  that  a  character  should  be 

idealized  or  portrayed  exactly  as  in  real 
life?     Give  reasons. 

12.  Does  nobility  of  character  l^elong  to  any 

special  rank  in  hfe?  Whose  books  have 
set  forth  this  question  plainly  ? 

13.  How  are  the  characters  of  Sissy  Jupe  and 

Mr.  M'Choakumchild  each  brought  out 
when  Sissy  is  examined  upon  political 
economy  by  Mr.  M'Choakumchild? 

14.  ^Make  a  list  of  character  incidents  in  the 

novel  you  are  studying  and  trace,  in  a 
general  way,  each  incident  to  the  men- 
tal impulse  out  of  which  it  sprang. 


VHI.     METHOD. 

An  author's  method  is  his  manner  of  telling 
his  story,  and  may  often  be  determined  by  the 
reader  if  he  put  to  himself  such  questions  as 
these  :  How  does  this  author  tell  his  story  ? 
Is  his  style  pleasing?  his  narrative  straight- 
forward? Does  he  proportion  his  use  of  de- 
scription and  narration  well  ?  Does  he  comment 
upon  his  characters  and  tell  the  reader  what  to 
see,  or  does  he  speak  only  through  his  charac- 
ters and  let  the  reader  see  for  himself  ?     Does 


METHOD.  49 

he  depict  life  as  it  is  or  as  he  thinks  it  ought  to 
be  ;  i.e.,  is  his  story  romantic  or  realistic  ?  Does 
he  set  forth  the  democratic  or  the  aristocratic 
phase  of  life  ?  That  of  the  saint  or  the  sinner  ? 
Is  his  canvas  large  or  small  ?  Compare  Tolstoi's 
'•  Peace  and  War  "  and  Wilkins's  *•  Pembroke." 
Is  his  book  pervaded  by  a  literary  atmosphere 
through  allusion,  and  does  he  take  the  reader 
to  his  study,  or  is  it  pervaded  by  an  outdoor 
atmosphere,  taking  the  reader  under  the  open 
sky,  to  the  fields  and  woods,  to  listen  to  the 
lowing  of  the  kine  or  the  song  of  the  brook  and 
the  birtls? 

Whei-ein  does  the  author's  strength  lie?  Is 
it  in  handling  plot,  as  shown  in  Stockton's 
stories  ?  Management  of  detail,  as  in  Wilkins  ? 
Portrayal  of  character,  as  in  Eliot  ?  Description 
of  scene  and  event,  as  in  Hardy?  In  power  of 
setting  forth  dramatic  situation,  as  in  Scott? 
Is  he  picturesque,  i.e.,  does  he  state  facts  by 
situation  and  scene,  by  suggestion  and  impli- 
cation, or  does  he  use  direct  statement? 

Exki:cisp:s. 

1.  Mention  some  books  in  wliirh  you  once 
skij)[)ed  tlie  long  descriptions.  Look  at 
these  books  again  and  see  if  you  can 
tell  why. 


50  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

2.  Mention  the  most  straightforward  narrative 

that  you  know. 

3.  Mention  authors  that  comment  upon  the 

characters. 

4.  Mention  authoi-s  that  let  their  characters 

do  all  the  talking. 

5.  Mention  writers  that  depict  high  life. 

6.  Mention  authors  that  depict  lowly  life. 

7.  In    what   books  have    you    found   saints? 

sinners  ? 

8.  Where    have    you    found    allusions    that 

showed  the  learning  of  the  author  and 
that  gave  the  book  a  literary  atmos- 
phere ? 

9.  Wliat  books  have   taken  you   to  outdoor 

life? 

10.  Make  a  list  of  ten  facts  that  are  told  by 

situation,  giving  : 

a.    Situation,    h.    Facts,     c.    From  what 
taken. 

11.  Make  a  list  of   ten    suggestions    used  to 

convey  facts,  giving : 

a.    Suggestion,     h.    Facts,     c.    Place, 

12.  Make  a  list  of  ten  scenes  that  convey  facts, 

giving : 

a.    Scene,     h.    Facts  conveyed. 

13.  Give  examples  of  delicate  humor  in  fiction. 

14.  Give  exam})les  of  pathos  in  nctiau. 


PURPOSE.  51 

IX.     PURPOSE. 

The  purpose  of  an  autlior  ma}-  be  to  forward 
a  cause,  as  in  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin " ;  to  set 
forth  a  theory,  as  in  "  Looking  Backward  "  ;  to 
picture  a  bygone  time,  as  in  "  Ivanhoe  "  ;  or  it 
may  he  to  depict  life  pure  and  simple,  as  in 
'"A  Modern  Instance";  or  simply  to  entertain. 
The  purpose  of  the  author  determines  in  a 
degree  the  classification  of  his  art. 

If  an  autlior's  purpose  be  purely  artistic,  i.e., 
if  he  wishes  only  to  portray  life  faithfully  as  it 
is,  his  work  is  realistic. 

If  he  uses  the  story  to  set  forth  his  particular 
views,  his  work  is  pliilosopliic. 

If  liis  purpose  is  to  picture  some  historic  per- 
sonage, event,  or  time,  his  work  is  histoiical. 

If  lie  wislies  to  entertain  by  setting  fortli 
any  theme  with  extravagant  treatment,  by  cen- 
tering the  interest  in  the  story,  and  by  giving 
a  prominent  part  to  love,  his  work  is  romantic. 

Any  two  or  more  of  tlicsc  classes  of  (iction 
may  be  combined.  A  work  may  be  i)liil()sophi(- 
realism,  historical-romance,  etc. 

EXEUCISE. 

Placi;  in  list^,  fus  indicated  liclow,  as  many 
stories    as    v<>u    know    tliat    will     illiisti-atc    ihc 


52  THE  STOKY-TELLEK'S   ART. 

headings.     The    same    story   may  come   under 
more  than  one  heading. 

1.  Stories  that  give  a  faithful  portrayal  of  life 

without    any  particular    lesson.     (Real- 
istic.) 

a.    Author.       h.    Story.       c.    What   life 
pictured. 

2.  Stories  that  set  forth  some  particular  view 

of  the  author.     (Philosophic.) 

a.  Author,     b.  Story,     c.  VicAvofwhat? 

3.  Stories  that  picture  a  past  time,  event,  or 

personage.     ( H  istorical.) 
a.    Author,     h.    Story,     c.  Time,  event, 
or  personage. 

4.  Stories  that  depend  upon  plot.     (Romantic.) 

a.    Author,     h.    Story. 

5.  Stories  independent  of  plot.     (Realistic.) 

a.    Author,     h.    Story. 
(>.    Stories    that   contain    highly   dramatic   mo- 
ments. 
a.    Author,     h.    Story,     c.    Moments. 

X.     COMMENT. 

Comment  is  a  very  general  term;  it  may 
give  the  student's  personal  impressions  con- 
cerning a  work ;  it  may  give  any  information 
he  wishes  to  convey  about  it,  or  it  may  be  of 


COMMENT.  53 

the  nature  of  criticism  commending  or  noting 
faults,  according  to  the  merits  or  dements  of 
the  book.  Sometimes  comment  includes  plot, 
setting,  mention  of  character,  and  critical  esti- 
mate upon  the  liteiury  quality  of  a  story.  A 
good  comment  indicates  a  high  quality  of  men- 
tal power  on  the  part  of  the  one  who  makes  it. 

Examples  of  comment  are  found  in  book 
notices,  briefs  of  books,  and  short  book  reviews 
in  the  Literary  Neu'S^  the  Literary  Diyest,  The 
Bookmatu  The  Lial,  the  Review  of  Reviews,  The 
Nation,  and  the  various  periodicals. 

The  following  is  a  fair  sample : 

llarradeii,  Beatrice.  "  Ships  that  Pass  in  tlie  Xight." 
Authorized  Aineiican  ed.  N.  Y.,  (J.  Putnam's  Sons, 
1694.     7 +  •_':}.')  p.     S.  cl.,  .^1. 

The  story  takes  place  at  Petershof,  a  winter  resort  for 
coiLsuniptives  in  the  Swiss  Mountains.  The  chief  char- 
acters are  Robert  Allitsen,  a  rich  younfj  En};lislinian, 
whose  days  are  nuniln'red,  and  Ik-rnardine  Ilolinc,  an 
intellectual  young  lOnglish  girl,  who  has  broken  down 
under  a  strain  of  work  in  teaching,  writing,  etc.  Their 
story  is  a  simple,  everyday  one,  the  novelty  being  in  the 
telling  and  in  the  many  shrewd  and  philosophical  re- 
marks of  tlie  writer,  betraying  a  deep  study  of  life  and 
human  nature.      The  apt  title  is  taken  from   Longfrdlow 

"  Ships  that  p;iss  in  a  night,  and  speak  each  other 
in  passing,"  etc. 


64  THE   STOliVTEI.LKirs    ART. 


Suggestive  Questions. 

1.    Wliat  may  be  contained  in  comment? 
"1.    Where  can  good  comment  be  found  ? 

3.  Note  the  foregoing  example  and  separate 

it  into  the  parts  of  the  story  as  herein 
studied. 

4.  Criticise  the  student's  comment  found  on 

page  39  of  this  book. 

5.  Write  a  comment  upon  a  story  with  which 

you  are  familiar. 

6.  Comment  upon  the  characters  in  the  story. 

7.  Report  upon  a  number  of  comments  exam- 

ined and  find  those  in  which  plots  are 
given. 

8.  Make  comment  upon  the  descriptions  in  a 

certain  book. 

9.  Comment  upon  the  method  and  purpose  of 

some  particular  story. 
10.    Comment  upon  the  comment  you  last  made 
after  laying  it  away  for  a  time. 


FOWKR  IX   THE  STUDY  OF  FICTION.  55 


XL  EXERCISES  ILLUSTRATING  THE 
DEVELOrMENT  OF  POWER  IN  THE 
STUDY   OF   FICTION. 

An  intensive  study  of  fiction,  as  of  other 
forms  of  literature,  leads  to  a  conscious  acqui- 
sition of  power ;  power  used  in  the  same  sense 
as  in  physics,  —  the  ability  to  do  w'ork  in  a 
given  time ;  power  not  only  to  handle  a  book 
and  tell  what  is  in  it,  but  power  to  do  this 
promptly,  easily,  and  in  a  pleasing  manner. 
Power  in  the  study  of  literature  may  be  in- 
cluded under  tliree  heads:  the  power  to  ac- 
quire, the  power  to  interpret,  and  the  power 
to  express.  Any  one  of  these  may  serve  to 
check  the  others.  Interpretation  will  keep  one 
from  l)eing  an  echo  through  disproportionate 
acquisition.  Both  interpretation  and  acquisi- 
tion aid  in  expression. 

Power  to  Acquire.  —  Power  to  acquire  is  the 
ability  to  make  a  thing  one's  own  :  il  (l('i)ends 
largely  upon  memory  to  (ix  in  the  mind  ilio 
form,  the  exact  words,  the  aiiaiigciiient  of 
words,  and  even  the  punctuation.  I(  enables 
one  to  gather  and  carry  facts.  The  anthro- 
pologist says  tliat  the  ear  hius  almost  h)st  its 
place    in   cdncalion.      As   min-h   niii,'-lit    Ih-   said 


56  THE  STORY-TKLLEIVS  ART. 

of  the  memory.  LitelUgent  committiiifr  to 
memory  is  fixing  the  attention ;  it  is  learning 
an  art  product  in  the  terms  of  art ;  it  is  sub- 
mitting to  tlie  creative  impulse  of  the  author 
and  thus  increasing  aesthetic  enjoyment.  Ex- 
ercise of  the  memory  is  the  best  preparation 
for  the  intensive  study  of  literature.  It  makes 
way  for  the  rhythmic  swing,  beauty  of  imagery, 
and  the  suggested  subtleties  of  thought.  The 
memory  keeps  on  hand  data  ready  for  compari- 
son with  new  facts.  An  exercise  of  memory 
enables  one  to  classify  as  one  reads  or  listens, 
and  the  best  of  all  its  results  is  in  the  cumulative 
effect  arising  from  the  thought-habit  which  it 
forms.  It  should  be  employed  in  fiction  as  in 
other  forms  of  literature. 

Power  to  Interpret.  —  Power  to  interpret  is 
constantly  called  into  play  in  the  study  of  fic- 
tion. Interpretation  goes  on  during  acquisition, 
but  it  can  be  the  dominant  activity.  To  inter- 
pret is  to  resolve  language  into  the  thought  of 
which  it  is  a  symbol.  This  is  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  reader  or  listener.  From  the 
point  of  view  of  the  writer  it  is  to  concrete 
one's  own  thought  into  the  proper  word  sym- 
bols. The  interpreter  must  see  the  masterpiece 
from  the  interior,  from  the  author's  point  of 
view ;    he  must  also  see  it  f  iT)m  the  exterior, 


POWER  IX  THE  STUDY  OF  FICTION.         57 

the  reader's  point  of  view ;  then  from  the  two 
he  must  resolve  it  into  the  elements  of  his  own 
thought,  and  send  it  forth  with  the  stamp  of 
his  own  pei-sonality  upon  it. 

Power  to  Express.  —  Power  to  express  is  the 
test  of  one's  ability  to  assimilate.  It  is  not  to 
reproduce  in  the  original  form,  but  to  give 
forth  what  has  been  acquired  and  interpreted 
in  the  living  personality  of  the  interpreter. 
Successful  expression  has  vitality ;  it  carries 
the  stamp  of  tlie  writer's  integrity  to  his  own 
impressions  and  his  respect  for  .saying  a  thing 
after  the  manner  of  his  own  genius ;  it  .shows 
that  matter  has  been  mixed  with  mind.  Ex- 
pression as  herein  used  includes  oral  and  writ^ 
ten  speech. 

Oral  expression  is  one  of  the  demands  of 
modern  education.  One  must  be  able  to  speak 
as  well  ;is  to  write ;  one  must  be  able  to  think 
and  talk  ui»(tn  one's  feet.  Under  oral  expres- 
sion comes  cliuss  criticism,  to  which  a  separate 
space  will  be  given. 

One  way  of  vitalizing  expression  is  to  give 
it  variety,  —  to  luive  the  .same  thing  looked  at 
and  spoken  of  in  iiianifoid  ways. 


58  tuk  stoky-tei.leivs  art. 

Illustration  of  the  Way  in  which  Vari- 
ety or  Expression  may  re  Secured. 

Variety  of  Expression.  —  Note.  —  The  follow- 
ing paper  is  taken  from  a  lesson  prepared  at 
home.  The  pupils  were  asked  to  select  any 
dramatic  moment  in  "  Ivanlioe "  and  then  in 
the  fewest  words  possible  tliey  were,  first,  to 
give  a  plain  account  of  the  moment  selected ; 
second,  they  were  to  write  it  in  })ictorial  lan- 
guage;  and,  third,  they  were  to  connnent  upon 
the  moment. 

(Student's  Paper.) 

Scene  between  Isaac  of  York   and  De  Boeuf. 

I.      In   Plain  Language. 

Front  de  Boeuf  entered  the  dungeon  of  the 
Jew,  accompanied  by  the  Saracen  slaves,  and 
with  threats  of  death  by  torture  induced  Isaac 
to  promise  a  ransom  of  one  thousand  pounds  of 
silver.  But  on  learning  the  fate  of  his  daugh- 
ter he  recalled  his  promise,  and  })referred  to 
die  rather  than  ransom  himself  without  her. 
The  Norman  lord  and  his  men  were  preparing 
to  carr}'  out  tlicir  licndisli  plan  when  inter- 
rupted by   tlie  l)ugle. 

(77  words.) 


POWER  IX    THE  STUDY   OF  FICTION.  59 

TT.      I))    Piofnr'ml  Lanfjuacje. 

See  tlie  Jew  abjectly  crouching  in  the  corner! 
Dank  odoi-s  rise  on  every  side.  See  the  rusty 
chains  upon  the  floor,  tlie  em})ty  hearth,  and 
windows  barred  I  The  door  is  opened.  In 
comes  De  Boeuf  with  his  companions.  Isaac 
cowei-s  before  the  Norman  lord.  What  I  A 
thousand  pounds  I  Does  he  refuse  ?  Ah,  see 
the  glowing  grate,  the  bai-s  of  iron,  the  cruel 
stones  !  He  can  but  yield,  and  does.  But 
what  I  His  daugliter  gone?  He  will  not  pay. 
They  blow  the  fire  ;  they  strip  him  bare  ;  they 
seize  his  aged  limbs  !  Hut  stop  !  A  bugle 
blows.     Isaac  is  saved. 

(90  words.) 

in.      CommeMt. 

This  dramatic  interview  between  De  Boeuf 
and  Isjiac  impresses  upon  the  reader  two  points : 
the  fiendisli  cruelty  of  the  Norman  and  the 
patient  affection  of  tlie  Jew.  The  setting  for 
such  an  efl'ect  is  adinirable.  The  dark  dun- 
geon, the  lilack  stones,  the  glowing  furnace  are 
almost  symbolic  of  tbi-  niind  of  ilicliaroii.  The 
Jew's  ready  submission,  his  agreement  to  the 
ran.som,  well  sets  oil'  his  later  resistance  and 
preference  of  death  to  his  daughter's  dislionor. 


t)U  THE  STORY-TKLLEIVS  ART. 

The  abrupt  bugle  is  a  welcome  relief  from  the 
anticipated  death  of  Isaac  and  from  the  high 
dramatic  tension  throughout  the  scene. 

(98  words.) 

Note.  —  Counting  words  calls  the  student's  attention 
to  the  use  of  every  word,  and  gives  the  teacher  an  idea 
of  what  limit  may  be  placed  upon  paragraph  lengths. 
This  exercise  may  be  further  used  to  call  attention  to 
proportion.  It  is  well  to  lead  a  learner  to  see  that  he 
nmst  get  somewhere.  He  often  starts  well,  but  never 
reaches  any  place. 

Fiction  affords  further  opportunity  for  variety 
in  expression  in  studying  the  discourse  forms 
of  soliloquy,  monologue,  and  dialogue,  and  in 
changing  one  form  into  another.  I'he  follow- 
ing soliloquy  changed  to  a  monologue  will  illus- 
trate the  point. 

Directions.  —  Copy  a  soliloquy  found  in 
The  Talisman."     Change  it  into  a  monologue. 


(( 


(Student's  Paper.) 

Scene.  —  De  Vaux  discusses  the  merits  of 
the  Saracen  physician  (134). 

I.     Soliloquy. 
(From  "The  Talisman.") 

Wherefore,  it  is  in  no  sense  impossible  that 
this  El  Ilakim,  with  this  his  cure,  or  seeming 


POWER  IX   THE  STUDY  OF  FUJTIOX.  61 

cure,  wrought  on  the  body  of  the  Scottish 
squire,  may  mean  nothing  but  a  trick,  to 
which  he  of  the  Leopard  may  be  accessory, 
and  wherein  the  Bishop  of  Tyre,  prehite  as 
he  is,  may  have  some  sliare. 

II.     (^The  Solilofpiy  changed  to  a  Monoloyue.) 

Strange,  very  strange,  indeed.  From  the 
case  of  this  poor  squire  it  would  seem  that  this 
infldel  leech  does  possess  certain  powers.  And 
this  El  Hakim,  a.s  he  calls  liimseif,  would  try 
his  art  upon  King  Richard?  For  that  purjjose 
was  he  sent  and  by  the  unbelieving  Soldan 
himself.  Richard,  indeed,  is  all  anxiety  to 
have  him  do  so.  He  trusts  this  Eastern  prince 
as  if  he  were  his  brother.  But  this  may  be  a 
plot,  an  attemi)t  on  the  life  of  Richard ;  the 
Eastern  conjuroi-s  are  adepts  in  the  art  of  poison- 
ing. The  Scot,  who  recommends  liim  so,  could 
he  be  traitor?  Would  bravery  and  treason  so 
combine?  Yet  I  liave  ever  found  them  fair 
and  false,  these  Scotchmen.  Then  the  Bishoj) 
of  Tyre  —  why  his  advice  and  willingness  ? 
Why  liis  pcrturl)ation  when  I  told  liim  of  tlic 
Scot's  return?  I'lit  In-  is  a  prelate.  \\\\i 
Ricliard  is  a  king.  When  kings  arc  lu-ing 
poisoned    docs   llit-   lank   of   |irclatc  signify  im- 


("52  TIIK  STORY-TFJJ.KIVS   ART. 

peccability?     Verily,  treason  is  all  about  me. 
I  must  be  on  my  gruard,  indeed. 

Vocabulary. 

As  language  is  the  medium  for  literary  ex- 
pression, words  are  needed  both  for  thought  and 
for  the  expression  of  thought.  One's  vocabulary 
should  increase  as  his  thoughts  increase.  Aside 
from  devices  placed  in  books  for  the  enlarge- 
ment of  a  vocabulary,  no  author  should  be 
intensively  studied  without  giving  attention  to 
the  words  he  uses.  Is  his  a  fact  vocabulary 
like  Defoe's?  Is  it  poetic  like  Ruskin's?  Is 
it  simple  Saxon  like  Bunyan's,  or  of  classic 
origin  like  De  Quincey's? 

After  comparing  the  same  number  of  words 
in  the  vocabularies  of  Scott,  Ruskin,  De  Quin- 
cey,  and  Defoe,  the  following  conclusions  were 
reached  by  the  pupils  :  Scott's  vocabulaiy  is 
largely  a  fact  vocabulary  and  employs  a  large 
number  of  action  words  in  its  many  dramatic 
situations.  Scott's  vocabulary  has  fewer  modi- 
fiers than  Ruskin's  and  more  than  Defoe's, 
showing  that  Scott's  style  is  less  ornate  than 
Ruskin's  and  more  embellished  than  Defoe's. 
Scott  uses  many  connectives  —  hence,  long, 
loose,    or    compound   sentences ;    Scott    inserts 


POWER  ly   THE  STUDY   OF  FICTION.  63 

Latin  phrases.  The  hiuguage  of  the  essayist 
De  Quincey  differs  from  that  of  the  roman- 
ticist Scott,  thus  showing  that  the  form  of 
discourse  determines,  in  a  measure,  the  vo- 
cabulary of  a  writer.  Scott's  sentences  are 
longer  than  Emei"son's,  and  the  suggestiveness 
of  Scott's  expression  is  found  in  the  use  of 
epithet. 

Criticism. 

Self  Criticism.  —  A  great  help  to  expression 
is  the  ];)0wer  to  criticise  one's  own  work.  Es- 
pecially is  this  true  in  the  papers  prepared  in 
the  study  of  fiction.  This  is  helpful  in  the 
writing  of  plot,  dramatic  situation,  and  charac- 
ter study.  One  can  ask  one's  self  with  profit : 
Is  my  exercise  grammatically  correct  in  word 
forms  and  agreement?  in  sentence  structure 
and  sentence  connection  ?  Is  it  rhetorically 
correct  in  diction  ?  in  clearness  ?  in  paragraph 
structure  and  paragraph  transition  ?  Is  it  true 
on  tlie  fact  side  ?  Have  I  proportioned  my 
exercise  riglit  as  to  parts?  as  to  empliasis  of 
points?  IIav(;  I  gotten  somewhere  or  lost 
myself  in  detail?  Is  my  exerci.se  up  to  tlic 
level  of  th(!  piece  I  am  treating?  Have  I 
brought  out  any  of  tlic  subtleties  of  mean- 
ing? 


64  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

Class  Criticism.  —  As  has  been  said,  class  or 
oral  criticism  deserves  a  special  place.  Class 
criticism  cultivates  the  power  to  listen,  the 
power  to  think  while  listening,  also  the  power 
to  judge  and  discriminate.  It  creates  standards 
of  literary  expression,  leads  to  appreciation  of 
the  good  and  the  beautiful  and  the  true  in 
letters.  It  carries  home  truths  that  would  be 
felt  in  no  other  way.  Every  one  who  offers 
a  criticism  must  give  it  in  a  kind  manner.  No 
indefinite  criticisms  are  to  be  permitted  in 
class.  The  one  criticised  learns  to  side  with 
his  critic,  and  thus  all  are  helped.  The  points 
to  listen  for  are  correctness  of  expression,  of 
facts,  the  bringing  out  of  new  facts,  and  the 
interpretation  of  the  subject-matter. 

Cultivation  of  the  Imagination.  —  The-  culti- 
vation of  the  imagination  may  be  also  helped 
by  selecting  passages  conveying  the  most 
vivid  impressions  and  then  noting  how  the 
impression  is  conveyed.  Is  it  by  suggestion 
or  inference,  independent  of  epithet  or  figure  ? 
Is  it  by  figure?  Is  it  by  epithet?  Give 
examples  of  all  these  ways ;  e.g.^  "  A  tear 
stood  in  the  eye  of  the  Saxon,"  "  The  rose  of 
Palestine,"  "The  scraggly  oak."  Words  are 
hereby  vitalized  and  used  in  their  literary 
sense.     It  is  well  to  see  that  words  have  an 


A    WORD  ABOUT  REALISM.  65 

etymological  meaning,  a  dictionary  meaning, 
and  an  associated  meaning.  The  imagination 
can  be  kept  active  by  the  subject-matter  of 
fiction  in  this  way. 

XII.     A  WORD  ABOUT  REALISM. 

Perhaps  no  word  troubles  the  student  of 
fiction  at  the  present  day  more  than  the  word 
"  realism."  The  following  pages  attempt  to 
give  only  a  few  of  the  distinctive  features  of 
realistic  fiction  written  in  the  English  language. 

Realism  is  known  by  its  portrayal  of  life  as 
it  is,  a.s  opposed  to  life  as  it  ought  to  be.  Real- 
ism gives  us  individuals  rather  than  types ;  it 
portrays  life  in  parts  or  instances  rather  than 
in  wholes.  In  realism  the  reader  always  feels 
tliat  the  writer  has  his  eyes  upon  the  object 
which  he  descril>es. 

Realism  is  unlike  romanticism  in  tliat  it 
depends  less  upon  plot  and  dramatic  situa- 
tions, and  follows,  rathei-,  the  natural  course 
of  life  and  events.  'I'he  interest  in  realism 
centei-s  upon  the  play  of  character,  while  the 
interest  in  i-on)anticism  centers  upon  the  de- 
velopment of  story.  The  success  of  realism 
depends  hugely  upon  the  significance  of  tiie 
details    selected.       Professor    Rahiigh    says    of 


66  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

realism  that  '^  it  is  the  microscope  laying  bare 
the  details  of  daily  life,  and  superseding  the 
telescope  that  brought  the  heavens  nearer  to 
the  earth," 

Kealism  in  relation  to  knowledge  is  the  out- 
growth of  the  spirit  of  scientific  investigation  ; 
in  relation  to  literature  it  is  the  outgrowth 
of  the  spirit  of  criticism ;  in  its  relation  to  life 
and  art  it  is  the  outgrowth  of  the  spirit  of 
democracy. 

Realism  is  as  old  as  fiction.  Literature 
showed  a  marked  tendency  to  realism  in  the 
Passion,  Miracle,  Saint,  and  Morality  plays  of 
the  church  from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth 
centuries.  These  plays  left  the  church  altars 
for  the  open  fields;  the  parts  in  them  were 
played  by  special  actors  instead  of  by  the 
clergy  who  had  before  played  them.  The 
creation  of  Adam  often  took  place  on  the 
stage.  Models  were  taken  from  real  life,  and 
while  these  plays  were  yet  performed  in  the 
church,  realistic  details  represented  by  the  live 
child,  the  actual  manger,  and  the  lighted  candle 
were  used. 

In  1362  William  Langland  wrote  his  "  Piers, 
the  Plowman."  He  drew  his  materials  from 
life.  He  might  have  been  swayed  by  literary 
tliemes,   for  lie  lived  in  the  time  of   Chaucer, 


A    WORD   ABOUT  REALISM.  67 

and  Wiekliffe  was  his  friend.  Froissart  was  at 
the  time  clironicUng  the  coui't  life  of  France  ; 
the  Meistereingei-s  had  established  their  guilds 
in  Germany,  and  in  Italy  Boccaccio  had  given 
the  Decameron  and  Petrarch  the  Sonnet  form 
to  the  literary  world.  These  facts  enhance 
the  value  of  the  realistic  tendency  found  in 
Lanfjland.  He  takes  his  reader  from  the  courts 
to  the  Malvern  Hills,  to  see  in  a  vision  a  '*  fair 
field  full  of  folk."  Langland  himself  is  the 
plowman  in  the  vision.  Sowing  and  reaping, 
tilling  the  soil  and  liusbandry  assume  dignity ; 
tliere  is  confidence  in  the  ongoing  processes  of 
nature.  Along  with  knight  and  pai-son  we 
liear  the  cook  crying  out,  "  Hote  pyes,  hote." 
Langland  is  also  realistic  in  his  independence 
of  plot ;  to  change  his  scene  he  invents  no 
situations,  hut  simply  says  :  "  and  the  scene 
shifts."  Along  with  Langland,  lealism  is  also 
found  in  Chaucer's  ''  Canterbury  Tales."  It 
was  a  mixed  com])any  that  started  out  from 
the  Tal)ai(l  I  mi  with  the  great  humorist  story- 
teHer.  One  laughs  and  feels  with  them  all, 
and,  whether  Chaucer  means  to  hold  his  ihai- 
actei"s  up  for  ridicule  or  cadmiration,  they  are 
none  the  less  interesting  and  none  the  less  real. 
There  is  a  space  of  more  than  two  hundred 
years  fi-om  T'liaiu-ci'  to  Thomas  Xash.  the   lirst 


68  THE  STORY-TELLER'S  ART. 

true  realist  in  Englisli  prose  fiction.  Nash 
was  an  original  writer  and  believed  that  every 
man  should  express  himself  in  his  own  vein. 
He  led  the  picaresque  school  in  England. 
This  school  was  founded  in  Spain  about  1553. 
Translations  found  their  way  into  the  neigh- 
boiing  countries,  and  their  appearance  in  Eng- 
land marked  an  epoch  in  English  fiction.  The 
picaresque  school  is  named  from  the  picaro,  — 
the  rogue,  —  who  seemed  always  to  be  the 
leading  character  in  this  style  of  story.  The 
picaro  is  set  forth  as  a  creature  of  caprice  and 
fate,  and  the  part  assigned  him  calls  for  little 
conscience  and  less  heart.  The  scenes  are  all 
vivid  and  awaken  the  interest  of  the  reader  in 
spite  of  himself.  Nash's  "  Jack  Wilton  "  is  a 
true  picaresque  tale,  and  is  the  ancestor  of 
many  novels  which  lack  the  ancestral  vigor. 

The  printing  press  had  been  used  nearly 
one  hundred  years  when  "  Jack  Wilton  "  was 
written,  and  during  this  time  the  existing 
English  novels  and  the  translations  into  Eng- 
lish from  P'rench,  Spanish,  and  German  writers 
were  multiplied. 

From  Thomas  Nash's  "  Jack  Wilton,"  in 
1594,  to  Richardson's  "Pamela,"'  in  1740,  there 
is  another  space — nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty 
years   this  time.     One  stops   with   Richardson 


A    WORD  ABOUT   REALISM.  69 

more  because  he  is  called  the  "  father  of  tlie 
Knglish  novel "'  than  because  of  his  contribu- 
tion to  realism.  He  belongs  to  the  school  in 
fiction  which  Sidne}*  represents  in  poetr}^ — that 
of  sentiment ;  but  he  contributed  to  prose  fiction 
the  naturalness  peculiar  to  the  letter  form,  and 
gave  a  microscopic  analysis  of  sentiment  and 
a  minute  portrayal  of  womanly  character.  The 
novel  is  now  well  born,  and  Bun3'an,  Defoe, 
and  Fielding  come  near  together,  each  making 
his  especial  contribution.  Bunyan  gave  lessons 
in  the  handlingr  of  character.  It  is  said  that 
he  gave  to  the  England  of  the  seventeenth 
century  its  one  true  picture  of  human  life  and 
victory.  Defoe  was  the  follower  of  Nash  in 
the  picaresque  style.  A  taste  for  fact  rather 
than  fancy  had  set  in.  The  positive  temper 
liad  sprung  up.  Defoe's  language  was  fact 
language ;  he  made  no  attempt  at  embellish- 
ment, and  he  excelled  in  the  realistic  treat- 
ment of  Ills  llieme.  As  Richardson  taught 
heart  analysis,  Bunyan  taught  character  por- 
trayal, and  Defoe  tlie  handling  of  realistic 
detail,  so  Fielding  tauglit  the  value  of  dra- 
matic situation  and  complicated  plot.  His 
"Tom  .ff)nes"  is  not  called  a  book,  l)ut  a 
man.  (iiderneath  all  its  (joarseness  i\\v\v.  is 
ill    '•  Tuiii   .Joiii's "   a  licaltliy    I'ctiii'ii   t<»  ii;ituic. 


70  THE   STOliY-TKLI.KlVS    ART. 

Fielding  hated  shams  and  liyi>ocrites  and 
phxeed  much  reliance  u})on  the  hottom  facts 
ill  human  nature.  He  began  in  satire  and 
ended  in  reform. 

In  passing  from  Fielding's  '■'-  Tom  Jones," 
1749,  to  Jane  Austen's  "Pride  and  Prejudice," 
in  1812,  fiction  has  come  into  the  modern 
world,  —  our  own  world.  The  revival  of  learn- 
ing which  marked  the  Elizabethan  age,  with 
its  long  line  of  immortals,  led  by  Shakespeare, 
Bacon,  Spenser,  Sidney,  and  Marlowe,  has  been 
passed.  The  novelists  herein  previously  men- 
tioned have  played  their  part.  The  first  draft 
of  Waverley  has  for  some  time  been  lying  in 
Sir  Walter's  chest,  and  the  "  Lady  of  the 
Lake "  is  about  to  appear.  The  Reformation 
has  been  voiced  in  the  writings  of  Milton  and 
Bunyan  and  the  age  of  the  Restoration  has 
followed.  John  Dryden,  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
and  Sir  Christopher  Wren  have  advanced  criti- 
cism, philosophy,  and  architecture ;  a  return  to 
classic  style  has  been  made  by  Pope,  Addison, 
and  Steele,  and  these  in  their  turn  have  been 
followed  by  Burns,  Byron,  Shelley,  and  Words- 
worth, setting  forth  tlie  spirit  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. So  one  is  justified  in  saying  that  Jane 
Austen  is  a  modern  ;  she  looked  out  upon  the 
modern  world  and  came  under  the  same  influ- 


A    WORD   ABOUT  REALISM.  71 

ences  that  sway  the  people  now  living.  "Pride 
and  Prejudice  "  is  realistic  in  its  narrowness  of 
scope,  in  its  lack  of  complicated  plot,  and  in 
that  it  sets  forth  clearly  and  fully  a  limited 
section  of  life.  It  attempts  to  hold  up  no 
ideals ;  it  deals  for  the  most  part  with  middle- 
class  people  ;  it  has  in  it  no  literary  atmosphere 
suggested  either  by  the  characters  or  by  the 
author's  allusions.  And  yet  one  forgets  that 
he  is  reading  a  book ;  he  feels  as  if  he  were 
making  a  visit  among  people  in  whom  he  had 
a  human  interest.  He  finds  himself  scheming 
with  the  fond  mother  in  her  matchmaking 
interests  for  her  daughters  live,  llowells  calls 
Jane  Austen  the  "  divine  Jane,"  and  wonders 
"  how  people  who  had  once  known  her  simple 
veracity  and  refined  perfection  could  enjoy  any- 
thing less  perfect."  He  says:  "She  was  the 
first  and  the  last  of  English  novelists  to  handle 
material  with  entire  truthfulness,  and  because 
she  did  this  she  is  wortliy  to  be  matched  with 
the  great  Scandinavian  and  Slavic  and  Latin 
artists." 

After  Jane  Austen,  ("liarles  Dickens  and 
George  ICliot  open  the  gates  of  common  lii'c. 
Dt-mocracy  has  a  new  meaning,  or  its  meaning 
has  penetrated  fiction.  The  piiest  in  lln' 
tower  askiuir,   "Where  ai't    tlum,    Loi<l  ? "    lias 


72  THE  STOUY-TELLEIVS  ART. 

heard  in  audible  words  :  "  Down  here  among 
my  people."  The  writers  of  realism  are  to-day 
legion  in  number,  and  so  varied  is  this  phase 
of  fiction  that  many  volumes  bai'He  the  classi- 
fiers. 

Realism  has  been  employed  for  various  pur- 
poses. George  Eliot  has  used  it  as  the  medium 
for  conveying  great  lessons  upon  the  redemp- 
tive power  of  love  in  "Silas  Marner,"  of  renun- 
ciation in  "  Romola,"  and  of  fate  in  "  Mill  on 
the  Floss."  Thomas  Hardy  has  proved  it 
capable  of  setting  forth  tragedy  in  "  Tess." 
George  Meredith  has  found  it  equally  capable 
for  the  representation  of  comedy  in  l\is  "  Ego- 
ist." Mrs.  Ward  has  used  realisju  to  advance 
her  theories  of  social  reform.  Howells  has 
made  it  the  vehicle  of  the  realistic  common- 
place, and  Mary  E.  Wilkins  of  the  minute. 
Realism  is  found  discussing  all  questions  that 
engage  the  attention  at  the  present  time.  It 
selects  its  characters  from  all  stations  in  life ; 
saint  and  sinner,  licli  and  poor  file  along  its 
pages.  One  writer  lets  the  reader  see  the 
vision  by  himself ;  another  takes  the  reader  by 
the  hand  and  points  out  to  him  the  significance 
of  the  view. 

The  exponents  of  realism  in  the  United 
States    are    led    by  W.  D.  Howells,    Mary  E. 


SrUDIEU  IX  SECONDARY  SCHOOLS.  73 

Wilkins,  and  Henry  James.  Howells  is  at 
the  head  of  writers  of  "artistic  realism,"  or 
that  species  of  fiction  which  has  no  object 
whatever  but  the  picturing  of  life.  Mary  E. 
Wilkins  is  most  truly  realistic  in  "  Pembroke." 
She  reminds  one  of  Jane  Austen  in  her  narrow 
scope  and  clear-cut  figures.  Henry  James  has 
but  slight  hold  upon  Americans  on  account  of 
his  love  for  foreign  countries.  Beers  says  : 
"  He  looks  at  America  with  the  eyes  of  a  for- 
eigner, and  at  Europe  with  the  eyes  of  an 
American." 

Some  critics  say  that  realism  has  reached  its 
limit,  while  othei-s  see  a  future  for  fiction  only 
along  this  line. 

XIII.     SOME   BOOKS   SUITABLE   FOR 
STUDY  IN  SECONDARY  SCHOOLS. 

The  following  list  is  in  no  way  exhaustive, 
but  the  books  contained  in  it  are  believed 
to  be  unobjectionable  in  quality  and  tone. 
Tliere  is  a  sufficiently  wide  range  for  selec- 
tion, since  the  time  allowed  for  fiction  on  a 
secondary  school  program  is  too  short  for  tlie 
study  of  more  than  four  books  at  most.  The 
principles  guiding  the  selection  of  novels  for 
study    slKHild     be    liascd     upon    tlio    particular 


74  THE  UTORY-TKLI.Kirs   ART. 

needs  of  the  class.  The  same  books  may  not 
of  necessity  be  the  best  ones  year  after  year  ; 
but  it  woukl  seem  advisable  for  the  classes 
to  study  such  works  as  will  give  them  a  clear 
idea  of  the  differences  between  romanticism 
and  realism,  —  works  not  too  difficult  for  the 
students  to  discover  for  themselves  these  dif- 
ferences. Scott  is  still  the  pattern  romancer, 
and  Wilkins  and  Eliot  furnish  examples  of 
artistic  and  j^hilosophic  realism ;  or  in  other 
words,  Eliot  states  the  lessons  of  philosophy 
which  she  wishes  her  stories  to  convey,  while 
Wilkins  ■  seems  to  write  only  to  give  a  faithful 
picture  of  life  and  to  let  that  picture  tell  its 
own  story. 

The  novels  used  in  the  course  out  of  which 
this  book  grew  were:  "The  Talisman,"  "Ivan- 
hoe,"  "  Silas  Marner,"  and  "  Hard  Times." 
While  the  first  book  was  being  read,  the  prin- 
ciples herein  set  forth  were  applied  to  the 
"  Lady  of  the  J^ake,"  with  which  the  students 
were  already  familiar.  No  book  should  be 
studied  in  class  until  it  has  been  made  familiar 
as  a  whole. 

Note.  —  The  following  li.st  i.s  named  without  reference 
to  any  special  classification. 

Aldrich,  'V.  B.  —  Marjorie  Daw. 

Allf.x.  .].  L.  —  Flute  and  Violin.     (Kentucky.) 


STUDIES  IN  SECONDARY  SCHOOLS.  (0 

Austen,  J.  —  Pride  and  Prejudice. 
Barrie,  J.  M.  —  The  Window  in  Thrums. 

Sentimental  Tommy.     (Scotch  life.) 

Blackmore,  R.  D.  —  Lox-na  Doone. 
Bronte,  C. — Jane  E\Te. 
Bllwer-Lytton.  —  Last  Days  of  Pompeii. 

The  Caxtons. 

Cable,  G.  W.  —  The  Grandissimes. 

Clemens  (Mark  Twain).  —  The  Prince  and  the  Paii])tM-. 

(Edward  VI.) 
Cooper,  J.  F.  —  The  Spy.     (Romance.) 

Last  of  the  Mohicans. 

Ckaik,  I).  M.  —  John  Halifax,  Gentleman. 
Cr.\ddock,  C.  E.  (Miss  Murfree).  —  The  Prophet  of  the 

Great  Smoky  Mountains. 
Dickens,  C.  —  Hard  Times. 

David  Copperfield. 

Old  Curiosity  Shop. 

Tale  of  Two  Cities. 

Eliot,  G.  (Mary  Ann  Evans).  —  Silas  Marner. 

Mill  on  the  Floss. 

Roniola. 

FoKi),  P.  L.  —  The  Honorable  Peter  Sterling. 
Fuller,  H.  B.  —  Willi  the  Procession.     (Chicago.) 
Goldsmith,  O. —  Vicar  of  Wakefield. 
Hawthorne,  N.  —  House  of  Seven  Gables. 

Marble  Faun. 

Short  .Stories. 

HoWKLL.s,  W.  D.  —  The  Lady  of  tiie  .Vroostook. 

The  Quality  of  Mercy. 

Hr<io,  V.  —  Les  Mis^rable.s. 
Jack.son.  II.  11.        Kamoiia. 


(0  THE  STOIiY-TKLLKRS     [RT. 

James,  II.  —  A  Portrait  of  a  Lady. 

KiNGSLEY,  C.  —  Ilypatia. 

Westward  Ho. 

Kii'LiNG,  R.  —  Short  Stories. 

AIcDoN.\LD,  G.  —  Robert  Falconer. 

Mitchell,  S.  W.  —  Hugh  Wynne. 

Rkade,  C.  —  The  Cloister  and  tlie  Hearth. 

Put  Yourself  in  his  Place. 

Scott,  Sir  AV.  —  The  Talisman. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Lady  of  the  Lake. 

AVoodstock.  (All  of  Scott's  novels  can  be  recom- 
mended.) 

Stevenson,  R.  L.  —  Treasure  Island. 

Kidnapped. 

The  Wrecker. 

Stockton,  F.  —  The  Hundredth  Man.  (Good  for  plot 
and  humor.) 

Stowe,  H.  B.  —  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin. 

Thackeray,  W.  M.  —  Vanity  Fair. 

Henry  Esmond. 

The  Newcomes. 

Tolstoi.  —  Master  and  Man. 

Weyman,  S.  —  A  Gentleman  of  France. 

WiLKiNS,  M.  E.  —  An  Humble  Romance. 

Short  Stories. 

Pembroke. 


GOOD   BOOKS  AND   STORIES.  7< 

XIV.      SOME   GOOD  BOOKS  AND  STOEIES 
THAT  EVERY  PERSON  SHOULD  KNOW. 

FouxDATiox    Books.    - 

Andrews,  J.  —  Ten  Boys  on  the  Road  from  Long  Ago 

to  Now. 
Beesly.  —  Stories  from  Rome. 
Baldwin.  —  The  Story  of  Siegfried. 
Bible,  The.  —  Its  stories  ;  its  character ;  its  poetry. 
BisYANT,  W.  C.  (Trans.)  —  The  Iliad. 

The  Odyssey. 

BuLFiNxn,  T.  —  Age  of  Fable. 

Age  of  Chivalry. 

Tales  of  Charlemagne. 

BuNYAX,  J.  —  Pilgrim's  Progress. 

Cervantes.  — -  Don  Qnixote.  ^ 

Clocgii,  a.  H.  (Trans.) — Plutarch's  Lives. 

FiSKE,  J.  —  History  of  the  United  Statt-s. 

Frost,  W.  H.  —  The  Wagner  Story  Hook. 

Greene,  W.  —  History  of  England. 

KiNGSLEY.  C.  —  The  Greek  Heroes. 

M  A  III  v..  II.  W .  —  Xorse  Stories. 

.Mai.duv.  —  Morte  d'Arthur. 

Ragozin.  —  Stories  of  C'haldea. 

Shake.speare's  Dramas. 

Books  of  Unusual  Interkst. 

Barrie,  .J.  —  Margaret  Ogilvie. 
HiRRorfnis,  J. —  Pejiacton. 
Curtis,  G.  W.  —  Pnie  and  I. 


78  THE  STORY-TELLER'S   .iRT. 

Jackson,  II.  II.  —  Hits  of  Triivel  at  Home. 

Lamb,  C.  —  Essay  of  Elia. 

.MncnKLL,  D.  G.  (Ik  INIarvel).  —  Reveries  of  a  Bachelor. 

About  Old  Story-tellers. 

HocKR  i)K  CovERLEY. —  Papers  froiii  the  Spectator. 

TiioKKAu,  II.  1).  —  Walden. 

Waknek,  C.  D.  —  My  Summer  in  a  Garden. 

Short  Stories. 

Andersen,  Hans.  —  The  Ugly  Duckling. 
.Vi.DRicii,  T.  B.  —  INIarjorie  Daw. 
HuowN,  1)k.  .1.  —  Rab  and  his  Friends. 
!)i:  LA  Rame  (Ouida).  —  The  Dog  of  Flanders. 
DicKKNS,  C.  —  A  Christmas  Carol. 
Hale,  E.  E.  —  A  Man  without  a  Country. 
Harte,  B.  —  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp. 
Hawthorne,  N.  —  The  Great  Stone  Face. 
Irving,  W.  —  Rip  Van  Winkle. 
Jewett,  S.  ().  —  The  White  Heron. 
KiiM.iNc,  II.  —  Tlic  Brush-wood  Boy. 
Lamb,  C.  —  Dream-children. 

Lessinc; Xathan  the  Wise. 

PoE,  K.  A. — The  (iold-bug. 
RusKiN,  .1.  — The  King  of  the  (ioldcn  River. 
Warner,  C.  I).  — The  Hunting  of  the  Deer. 
W'li.KiNS,  M.  E.  —  A  Xew  England  Nun. 
The  Revolt  of  Mother. 


REFERENCES   UPON  FICTION.  79 


XV.     REFERENCES  UPON  THE  STUDY  OF 

FICTION. 

History    of   Fiction. 

DuNLOP,  J.  C.  —  History  of  Prose  Fiction  (to  1814).      2 

vols.     1888. 
JussERANU,    J.    J.  —  English   Novel    in    the    time    of 

Shakespeare.     1890. 
M.\.ss(>N,  D.  — British  Novelists  and  their  Styles.    1849. 
Ralp;igh,  W.  a.—  English  Novel:  its  History  to  the 

Appearance  of  Waverley.     1894. 
Richardson,  C.    F. — American    Poetry    and    Fiction. 

(Ill  liis  American  Literature.)     1889. 
Scott,    Sir    W.  —  Lives    of     Eininent    Novelists    and 

Dramatists. 
Tlckku.ma.n,  B.  —  History  of  English  Prose  Fiction. 

Art  of  Fktion. 

How  to  Write  Fiction.      Anon.      Bellair  &  Co.,  London. 

1895.      Practical. 
Bk.sant,  W.  —  Art  of  Fiction.     1884. 
IJri.wKK-Lviio.v,   E.  (i.   v..   L.  —  Art  in   Fiction.     (In 

liis  iiami>liletH  and  sketches.)      1875. 
CKAWKoiti).  V.  M.  — The  Novel:    Wliat  It   Is. 
FuKVi  A<i.  —  Tlif  Technique  of  the  Drama.      (Trans.) 
,Iami:s.  II..  Jr.  —  Art  of  Fiction.     (In  liis  Partial  i'or- 

trails.)      1888. 
K  I  III  N<i,  l{.  —Life'.s  Handicap.      1891.      (Preface.)      A 

Hindu  t<'lls  Kipling  tiic  art  of  story-telling. 


80  THE   STOUY-TKI.I.KR-S    ART. 

Lamer,  S.  —  English  Novel   and  the  Principle   of   its 

Development. 
Matthews,    B.  —  Art   and  Mystery  of   Collaboration. 

(In  his  With  my  Friends.)     1891. 
Dramatization  of  Novels.     (In  his  Studies  of  the 

Stage.     1804.     Pp.  1-38.) 
Philosophy  of  the  Short  Story.     (In  his  Pen  and 

Ink.     1888.     Pp.  07-94.) 
Smith,  G Lamps  of  Fiction.     (In  his  Lectures  and 

Essays.     1888.     Pp.  75-90.) 
Thompson,  D.  G.  —  Philosophy  of  Fiction  in  Literature. 

Essays  ox  Fiction. 

BoYESON,  H.  H.  —  Literary  and  Social  Silhouettes. 
1894. 

Bridges,  R.  (Drocli).  —  Overheard  in  Arcady.     1894. 

Suppressed  Chapters  and  Other  Bookishness.   1805. 

Garland,  II.  —  Crund)ling  Idols.  "  The  genuine 
American  literature  must  come  from  the  soil  and 
open  air  and  be  freed  from  tradition." 

GossE,  E.  W.  —  Tyranny  of  the  Novel.  Limits  of  Real- 
ism in  Fiction.  (In  his  Questions  at  Issue.  1803. 
Pp.  1-31;  135-154.) 

Greg,  AV.  E.  —  False  Morality  of  Lady  Novelists.  French 
Fiction  :  the  Lowest  Deep.  (In  his  Literary  and 
SocialJudgments.     1870.     Pp.  85-114;    146-181.) 

Hawthorne,  J.  —  Confessions  and  Criticisms.     1887. 

IIowKLLs,  W.  D.  —  Criticism  and  Fiction.  1891, 
Harper's. 

James,  W.  P Romantic  Professions  and  Other  Papers. 

1894. 


REFERENCES   LI' OX   FICTION.  81 

Jerome,  J.  K.  (ed.). — My  First  Book.  1894.  Contri- 
butions l)y  twenty-two  authors. 

Library  Journal.  1891,  Addresses  upon  fiction  in  libra- 
ries. 

Matthews,  B.  —  Story  of  a  Story.  1893.  On  the 
influence  of  fiction. 

XoRDAV,  ^I.  —  Degeneration.     1895. 

Paget,  V.  —  On  Novels.  (In  her  Baldwin.  1886.  Pp. 
18.5-245.) 

Phii.ipson,  D.  —  The  Jew  in  English  Fiction.  1889. 
Jew  of  Malta,  Merchant  of  Venice,  Cumberland's 
The  Jew,  Ivanhoe,  Oliver  Twist,  Our  Mutual 
Friend,  Coningsby,  Tancred,  Daniel  Deronda. 

RusKiN,  J.  —  Fiction,  Fair  and  Foul.  (In  his  Miscella- 
nies.) 

Saixtsuiky,  (j.  E.  B.  —  Present  State  of  the  English 
Novel.  (In  his  Miscellaneous  Essays.  1892.  Pp. 
388-420.) 

Scott,  Sir  W.  —  Essays  on  Romance.  (In  his  Chivalry, 
etc.     1870.     Pp.  127-216.) 

Stearns,  F.  P.  —  Romance,  Humor,  and  Realism ; 
Modern  Novel.  (In  his  Real  and  Ideal  in  Litera- 
ture.    1892.     Pp.  40-76.) 

Stevenson,  R.  L.  —  Gossip  on  a  Novel  of  Dumas'. 
Gossip  on  Romance.  Humble  Remonstrance.  (In 
his  Memories  and  Portraits.     1887.     Pp.  228-299.) 

TowNSENi),  ^L  Vj.  (ed.).  —  Great  Characters  of  Fiction. 
1893. 

TRoi.i.fU'E,  A.  —  Autobiography.     Cliap.  Nil. 

Wiiii'i'i.E,  E.  P.  —  Novels  and  Novelists.  (In  liis  Lit- 
erature and  Life.     1888.     Pp.  42-83.) 


82  THE  SrOKY-TKLLKU'S   ART. 

Ckitictsm  by  Authors    and  Some  Less   Impor- 
tant Essays. 

IiKu\vx80N,  O.  A Religious   Novels  ;    Novel   Writing 

and  Novel  Reading. 
Craik,  Mks.  D.  M.  M.  —  On  Novels  and  Novel-makers. 

(In  her  Plain-speaking.     1882.     Pp.  118-143.) 
Eliot,  G.   (Evans.)  —  Essays  and  Leaves  from  a  Note 

Rook. 
Hazeltink,  ]\I.  W.  —  Chats  about   Books,  Poets,   and 

Novelists.     1)388. 
Hexley,  W.  E.  —  Views  and  Reviews.     1890. 
IlowELLs,  AV.  D.  —  My  Literary  Passions. 
James,  11.  —  Partial  Portraits.     1888. 
Lang,  A.  —  Essays  in  Little.     1891. 

Old  Friends.     1890.     Imaginary  letters  of  heroes 

.    and  heroines  in  fiction. 
Matthews,  B.  —  Americanisms  and  Briticisms.     1892. 
MooiiE,  (i.  —  Impressions  and  Opinions.     1891. 
Repplieu,  a.  —  Essays  in  Miniature.     1892. 

Points  of  View.     1891. 

Scott,  Sir  W.  —  Criticism  on  Novels  and  Romances. 

(In  liis  Periodical  Criticism.  1870.  Vols.  II  and  III.) 
Stephen,  I..  —  Hours  in  a  Library.    3  vols.    1871-1879. 

Historical  Novels. 

Alison,  Sir  A.  — Historical  Romance.    (In  his  Essays. 

18.50.     Pp.  521-5.59.) 
Allen,  W.  F.  —  Historical  Fiction.    (In  his  J2ssays  and 

Monographs.     1890.     Pp.  112-128.) 
CiiOATE,  R.  —  Importance  of  Illustrating  New  England 

by  a  Series  of  Romances  like  the  Waverley  Novels. 


REFEREXCES   ll'OX  FICTION.  83 

Classified  List  for  English  Prose  Fiction. 

Boston  Public  Library.  Clirouological  Index  to  Histori- 
cal Fiction. 

BowEX,  H.  C. — Descriptive  Catalogue  of  Historical 
Novels  and  Tales.     1882. 

Dixon,  Z.  A.  —  Bibliography  of  Fiction. 

GiaswoLD,"\V.  M. — Descriptive  Lists  of  Novels  and  Tales. 

American  City  Life.     1891. 

American  Country  Life.      18!JU. 

Ancient  History.     1895. 

British  Novels.     1891. 

History  of  North  America.     1895. 

International  Novels.     1891. 

Life  in  France.     1892. 

Life  in  Italy.     1892. 

Life  in  Russia.     1892. 

Romantic  Novels.     1890. 


Literary  World.     1881.      ^'ol.  XII.  pp.  .57-60. 

Los  Angeles  Public  Library.     List  of  Novels.     Classified. 

San  Francisco  Free  Public  Library.  Classified  English 
Prose  Fiction,  isiil.  Said  to  be  "the  best- 
arranged  fiction  catalogue  ever  made." 

M  .\<;  AZIN'K     AkTM  LKS     UPON     FlCI'IOX. 

.\llkn,    .1.    I..  —  Two    Princijdes    of     Rfceut     Fiction. 

Atlantlr,  Oct.  1897.  p.  43:}. 
Bkhant,  W.  —  Tlie  Art  of  Fiction.     Critir,  A:  297. 
BoCKGKT,  P. — Tlie  Limits  of  R<'alism  in  Fiction.     Xar 

lUvirn;  Vol.  VIII. 
The    Dangers   of   tin-    .\nalytif    Spirit    in    Fiction. 

A'/'//'  i:<ii,ir.  \i>\.  \\ 


84  '/'///';   STORY-TKLLKR'S    ART. 

Cable,  (J.  W.  —  After-thoughts  of  a  Story-teller.    Nor. 

.Iw.,  Vol.  CLVIII. 
Ford,  P.  L.  —  The  American  Historical  Novel.     Atlantic, 

Dec.  18!)  7,  p.  721. 
I  low  to  Write  Short  Stories.      Writer,  2:  247. 
How  not  to  Write  Fiction.     Lippiiicotl's,  40. 
How  to  Write  a  Story.      Writer,  2:  239. 
Lang,  A.  —  The  Art  of  Fiction.     Critic,  4: 249. 
Matthews,  B.  —  The  Philosophy  of  the  Short  Story. 

LippincotVs,  October,  1885.      .SV(/.  Rev.,  Vol.  LVHI, 

p.  32,  July,  1884. 
Paget,  V.  (Vernon  Lee).  —  On  Literary  Construction. 

Bookman,  N.  Y.,  Vol.  IT,  Nos.  1  and  2. 
Perry,  B.  —  The  Study  of   Fiction  in  College.     Mod. 

Lang.  Assoc,  Transactions  XT.  I. 
Stevenson,  R.  L.  —  The  Art  of  Fiction.     Critic,  5 :  264. 
Short  Stories  and  their  Writing.      Writer,  5:  211. 
Trail.  —  Romanticism  Realisticised.     Contemp.,  59. 
The  Deceitful  Sliort  Story.     Writer,  2:  287. 

The  Study  of  Fiction. 

Moulton,  K.  G.  (ed.).  —  Four  Years  of  Novel  Reading. 

The  work  of  a  club  in  a  mining  village  in  p]ngland. 
SiMONDS,  W.  E. —  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  English 

Fiction. 

Dictionaries  for  Reference. 

Century  Dictionary  of  names. 

Brewer,  E.  C  — Reader's  Handbook  of  Allusions, 
References,  Plots,  and  Stories.     1888. 

Wheeler,  W.  A.  Explanatory  and  Pronouncing  Dic- 
tionary of  the  Noted  Names  of  Fiction.     188t». 


REFERENCES  UPON  FICTION.  85 

Best  Novels. 

Jones,  J.  L.  (ed.).  —  Ten  Great  Novels.  (In  Uniti/ 
Club  Leajiets,  1891,  p.  23.)  These  novels  were 
chosen  by  the  votes  of  seventy  literary  persons. 
The  titles  are:  Scarlet  Letter,  Les  Miserables, 
Roiiiola,  Adam  Bede,  Tvanhoe,  Henry  Esmond, 
Willielm  ]\Ieister,  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,  On  the 
Heights,  David  Copperfield. 

Perkins,  F.  B.  —  Best  Hundred  Novels.  (^Library  Jour- 
nal, 1876,  Voh  VI,  pp.  IGO,  107.) 


INDEX 


Acquisition,  oG. 
Aeschylus,  4. 
Aesthetic  enjoyment,  oC 
Agaiueinin»ii,  4. 
Allen,  J.  L.,  0. 
Antigone,  4. 
"Arabian  Nights,"  I'J. 
Aristocratic,  40. 
Art,  10,  18. 

Artistic  short  story,  19. 
Artistic  realism,  73. 
Asia,  4. 

As-similate,  •">,  7. 
Athens,  4. 
Athenians,  4. 
Attention,  1. 
Austen,  Jane,  70,  71,  7.5. 
Author's  approach  to  story, 
28. 

Bacon,  70. 
Balancf,  17. 
Boccaccio,  (!7. 

Books  suitable    for  second- 
ary schools,  73-70. 
Browning,  4,  0. 
Bnnyiii'i  "0. 


Cable,  G.  W.,  .3. 

"  Canterbury  Tales,"  67. 

Character,  28,  33,  43,  44,  53; 
gi-owth  of,  37;  study  of, 
42,  44;  portrayal  of,  49. 

Chivalry,  20. 

Cliivalric  England,  5. 

Christian,  46. 

Cuicinnatus,  3. 

Climax,  17,  29,  3(). 

Cooper,  2. 

Collyer,  12. 

Comment,  52;  examples  of, 
53. 

Corson,  9. 

Craddock  (Murfrees),  3. 

Criticism,  53,  57,  00. 

Crusades,  26. 

Cumulative  effect,  34. 

David,  15. 

Davis,  3. 

Decameron,  07. 

Defoe,  09. 

Dramatic  situation,  36;  con- 
versation, 3(!;  climax,  30; 
incidi-nl,  M. 


88 


INDEX. 


Democracy,  6G. 
Democratic,  40. 
Description,  28,  48,  49. 
Detail,  49. 
Dickens,  C,  71,  73. 
"Does  a  Man  Need   Much 

Laud?"  20. 
Douglas,  33,  35. 

Kchetlos,  4. 
Educational  system,  1. 
Eliot,  G.  (Evans),  21,  43,  71, 

72,  74. 
Elizabethan     Dramas,     10 ; 

age,  70. 
Emerson,  14. 
Environment,  18. 
Episode,  31,  34,  37. 
Ethics,  1. 
Exercises  upon  Method,  49, 

50;  upon  Purpose,  51,  52. 
Expression,  oral,  57. 

Fabricius,  3. 
Familiarity,  7,  9,  28,  29. 
Fiction  as  art,  10,  17. 
Fielding,  70. 
Forum,  3. 
Froissart,  67. 

Garland,  3. 
Grecian  history,  4. 

Harte,  B.,  3. 
Hawthorne,  3. 
Helen  Hunt  (Jackson),  2. 
Hercules,  15. 


Historical,  52. 

Hardy,  T.,  72,  74. 

Iloratius,  3. 

How  to  Study  Incident,  36, 

37;    to  Study   Character, 

42-44;  Plot,  33,  34. 
Howells,  W.  D.,  71,  72,  73. 

Imagery,  56. 

Incident,    28,    32,    33,    39; 

kinds  of,  34,  35,  36;   plot, 

34 ;     developing,     34-36  ; 

commonplace,  35,  36. 
Indian,  3. 
Intensive  study  of    fiction, 

45. 
Interpretation,  56. 
"Ivanhoe,"  26,  45,  51,  58. 

"Jack  Wilton,"  68. 

James,  H.,  73. 

James  Fitz-James,  33,  36. 

Jews,  5,  31. 

Joseph,  15. 

Kenneth,  43. 
Knighthood,  43. 
Kipling,  20. 

Leonidas,  15. 

Lincoln,  3. 

List  of  stories,  10,  11;  of 
books  for  secondary 
schools,  74-76;  of  books 
that  every  person  should 
know,  77;  books  of  un- 
usual interest,  77,  78;   of 


IXDEX. 


89 


short  stories,  78;  books 
upon  fiction,  7!»-Ho;  maga- 
zine articles  upon  fiction, 
83,  84;  best  novels,  85. 

Magna  C'liarta,  o. 
Malcolm  Graeme,  :>]. 
Malvern  Hills,  67. 
Marcus  Curtius.  :]. 
Marlowe,  7<». 
Marathon,  4. 
"Master  and  .Man,"  20. 
Maupassant,  V.K 
Memory,  5(). 
.Milton.  70. 
Miracle  Play,  66. 
Moses,  15. 
Motive,  17. 

Narration,  48. 
Xash,  67,  68. 
Nature's  Laws,  18. 
Norse  mythohjgy,  5. 

Octave  Thanet,  3. 
Oedipus,  4. 

Passion  I'lay,  66. 
Pamela,  68. 
perspective,  17,  l'.». 
Petrarch,  67. 
Pheitlipi)ides,  4. 
PhiloHopliic,  51,  52. 
Physies,  55. 
I'icaresque,  68. 
Picaro,  <>8. 
"Piers,  the  pjr.wman."  66. 


Plot,  28-40,  53;  definition 
of,  20;  essentials  of,  20; 
of  •' Ivanhoe,"  31;  origi- 
nal, 38  ;  underplot,  30  ; 
imity  of   plot,  29. 

Poe,  19;  his  rules,  19. 

Poets'  thoughts  in  poets' 
phrase,  9. 

Power,  55;  to  interpret,  56, 
57;  to  acquire,  55;  to  ex- 
press, 57. 

"Pride  and  Prejudice,"  70. 

Presentation  of  story,  ana- 
lytic, 6,  7;  aesthetic,  6,  7. 

Prometheus,  4. 

Proportion,  17,  48. 

Purpose,  51;  artistic,  philo- 
.sophic,  hi.storical,  51,  52. 

Questions  upon  material,  24, 
25;  upon  setting,  27,  28; 
plot,  31,  32;  incident,  40- 
42;  comment,  54;  puiTiose, 
52. 

Read.-.  C,  18. 

Reader's  approach  to  story, 

28. 
Realism,  65-73. 
Realistic,  49,  51. 
Rebecca,  45. 
Reformalimi.  70. 
Rcirulus.  3. 
Re.sponse,  23. 
Restoration,  70. 
Rhythm.  17. 
Rifiiard  1..  4:;. 


00 


INIiEX. 


Richardson,  69. 
Riley,  3. 

Kodi'riok  Dhu,  oo,  ;35. 
"  Komola,"  72. 
Koman  History,  3. 
Homantio,  40,  51. 
KomanticiMu,  74. 
Roweiia,  45. 

Saints'  Play,  66. 

Saladin,  46. 

Scope  of  novel,  17. 

Scott,  Sir  W.  74. 

Secondary  school,  1,  73. 

Shakespeare,  21,  23,  70. 

"Sherlock  Hohiios,"  lil. 

Setting,  26;  questions  upon, 
27,  28. 

Sidney,  60,  70. 

Siegfried,  15. 

"  Silas  Marnor,"  30,  72. 

Sir  Launfal,  26. 

Soliloquy,  60. 

Sonnet  form,  67. 

Sophocles,  4. 

Sparta,  4. 

Spirit,  18. 

Spenser,  70. 

Story,  aesthetic  features  of, 
1;  basis  for  selecting,  1, 
2;  artistic  value,  3;  well- 
appointed  story,  34;  cla.ssic 
.stoiy,  13;  relation  to  his- 
tory, 2,  4;  office  of,  15; 
short,  10;  relation  to  dra- 
ma, 19. 


Story-teller,  20;  province  of, 
16;  relation  to  dramatist, 
16. 

Stnarl,  3. 

Students'  paper,  15,  31,  38- 
40,  45,  46,  58-61. 

Suggestive  questions,  47.  54. 

Symbol,  66. 

Tennyson's   "May  Queen," 

10. 
"The  Long  Exilr,"  20. 
"The  Talisman,"  74. 
Thermopylae,  4,  15. 
"Tess,"  72. 
Tolstoi,  20,  40. 
"Tom  Jones,"  60,  70. 
To  the  Student,  15. 

Ulysses,  15. 

"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  51. 

Underplots,  30. 

Unity  of  plot,  29. 

Utility,  1. 

Valley  Forge,  3. 
Variety   of  expression,  58- 
62. 

Wagner,  21. 
Ward,  Mrs.,  72. 
Washington,  3. 
Washington  Elm,  3. 
Wickliffc,  67. 

Wilkins,  20,  26,  49,  72,  73. 
Wordsworth,  43,  74. 
Writers  of  Short  Stories,  20. 


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